An Unexpected Arrival
by Katapultman
Summary: All it took for Stanley Pines, Man of Mystery, to question his stance toward children was one stormy night and a new face to meet. Toiling after the child are surprises ranging from exciting adventures to deep, eerie secrets. Who knows, maybe such a rollercoaster would be beneficial? Or serve as a catalyst for something sinister? After all, how much can one person really change?
1. Chapter 1

**A/N - Hello, everyone! My name is Katapultman and if you decided to click onto this first page then that means you'll bear witness to my first ever fanfiction! Due to my love for the show, I've had this idea lingering around for years on end, but I never got to writing it, so when push came to shove, I decided I ought to finally try and write a fanfiction about GF. Anyway, enough hearing me yammer about, enjoy the first chapter of a possible series!**

 **EDIT 26/10/2019: Current chapter progress - Chapter 8: 20% done. Apologies for the slow release once more, but school has taken its toll along with the usual procrastination. Expected release should be around November (in the best conditions), but I'll leave you guys with a hint of what's to come otherwise:**

 ** _He who dons a charming mask in the tertiary part and speaks the language of the one-eyed star  
Seeks to ravage our own with amulets bizarre  
And in the lost boy's effort to quarantine the looming threat  
He will pave the way to a sleepless end_**

 **Chapter I - The Arrival**

It was a normal evening for Stanley Filbrick Pines - lounging in his usual armchair, watching the usual dull programs that aired on TV that night, and of course, wearing his usual evening attire: a white tank top, coupled with cyan shorts in symmetric white stripes, not to mention topped off with a rather comfortable pair of slippers. Although barely paying even a slither of attention to the infomercials being broadcasted and looking more the style of a half-dead zombie, he did not care at all, for he was reminiscing of his days of normalcy, as he had been used to doing so for years on end now - about the times when he had a family that loved him despite everything he had been, when he took the memories that he had now cherished, the ones that, dare he think, still kept him going in life, for granted. But most of all, he thought about his brother, whom he had always known as his other half. Stanley thought about every moment in which his brother had helped him cheat and lie his way through life and the sorrowful look he had always given him afterward - a look he last saw on his expression before he had been ripped from utterly from the world, all because of **him**. Quickly snapping out of his hypnotic state, he cursed silently for letting himself daze off like that and briskly took off to the kitchen for refreshments. Sadly, that long relapse was also all-too-familiar to Stan, for he has had many of them - some in vivid detail in dreams and others just out of the blue, even while he had worked. But he was sure that this night, like many others, was one he had been used to welcoming with the same apathetic and hopeless look every time.

He had taken note of how heavily it was raining outside and proceeded to, with a clear glint of annoyance, audibly and vulgarly remark its intensity. That was mainly because that meant tomorrow he would have to take extra measures in order to attract business. He sighed his annoyance off, accepting the new circumstances, and took a glass of water from the kitchen sink. Suddenly, as he was making his way back from the kitchen window, he heard a light knock on his house door. He slowly and silently walked to the door on his toes, though the latter not working as he had intended because of the weight gain he had suffered as a result of leading his relatively sedentary lifestyle. Nevertheless, when he was close enough to it, he carefully peered through the peephole and saw what appeared to be a small hooded figure. Although shown to be not too-trusting towards strangers, especially ones knocking on his door, he could not help but note the fact that the person was obviously a child.

With that in mind, he carefully pried open the door and revealed the said adolescent. What he took note of at first that wasn't directly related to its stark physique was the condition of its clothes - their rugged and torn appearance only served to add insult to injury in regards to Stan's already dubious impression of the child. He was startled by the unnerving and sudden way it lifted its head to look upon him and the entrance of his house. Although not a person to easily experience embarrassment or any form of shame, he did feel a little bad about having the adolescent's first sight upon opening the door be an underdressed, relatively aged man.

After looking upon Stanley for less than even a second, it dashed back and fell clumsily to the ground. Stan had a feeling that odd reaction was related to the knee-jerk ones that other people have had when they've experienced the misfortune of knocking on his doors at late hours firsthand. He saw it reflexively put up a hand before its face as if Stan were about to vehemently strike it, followed by the woeful sound of a faint whimper. Distinguishing the pitch and the sound quickly, Stan deduced that the youth before him was a boy.

"Oh, um… uh, I'm really sorry for b-bothering you s-sir. I just wanted t-to ask for d-directions," he first stuttered out.

"Er, directions to where?" inquired Stan as he darted his eyes between the figure in front of him and the dark, now entirely wet, unwelcoming forest.

"Um... a-a bus s-stop or t-town...? I'm sorry for taking your time and I promise I'll b-be out of your way, just..."

Stan pondered on what he should do for a moment. The thought of taking in a complete stranger sold it for him, but then he also did a double-take at the weather and the child's frail condition; he realised that simply answering his query wouldn't be helpful enough, given the dire circumstances. But there was also something much stronger that irked his conscience: the odd similarities between the bits and pieces Stan was already starting to connect from the child's possible past and his own were hitting close to home, for the times he had lived through - ones filled with misery, loneliness, and dismay - were such he had hoped no one, not to mention a child, would ever have the misfortune of even slightly sharing.

He sighed heavily.

"Look, kid, I get you're lost. And trust me, neither a bus stop nor a town's gonna help ya, so... why don't ya stay here for a night and we'll sort this thing out tomorrow, eh?" offered Stan.

He looked bedazzled after having that suspiciously kind offer reach his ears.

"I… I'm not sure..." he muttered out. "I'd just give you trouble..."

"Frankly, kid, my whole establishment here reeks 'a trouble, so you're gonna be the least of my worries," jokingly replied Stan.

"W-well..." he trailed off.

With that uncertain response, Stan's impression that he was getting nowhere in easing the child's frantic fears was now, more or less, true. As a last attempt at convincing him, he knelt down and grabbed both of his frail shoulders, determined to convince him. But before he uttered his words, he stopped. He looked him, for the first time, straight in the face and on his level. Only now did he realize why the child was so apprehensive beforehand - what Stanley saw was a face with pure terror written all over it. But he knew better, for had that been the case, he would have already run away from him, so he was certain that something, whether it be his own will or some supernatural oddity, something was keeping him here.

Stan stared deeply into his eyes.

"Listen to me, kid. I don't care if you don't wanna stay here now, I ain't letting you roam the forest alone, especially out 'a this weather only to have god-knows-what happen to ya. I can tell by your face that life ain't been good on you, heck I can relate, but trust me, no one can get through it alone. I know I'm no one to ya, but I wanna help. And I mean it. But for that, I'm gonna need your trust, at least for now." he finished as he steadily rose up.

"Heh..." he began. "It's not like I have m-much of a choice, d-do I...?"

Stan saw his face slightly light up before seeping back into its fearful and catatonic state. With that, he gently nudged him into the doorway and slowly closed the door. He lead him to the barely lit living room and gestured for him to sit on the old and decayed armchair while he leant on the doorframe.

"So, uh, make yourself at home..." awkwardly said Stan.

"Y-yeah, thanks," he replied as he went to sit down.

Stan raised an eyebrow.

"You're lookin' pretty worn out. Wanna eat something?" offered Stan.

"Oh," he began, piping up from the chair. "No, no. I'm... good!"

"I can tell you're lying from a mile away, kiddo," Stan smugly retorted. "So just... I dunno, grab a bite to eat out of the fridge."

Immediately after that, he noticed how perplexed he looked.

"Alright, alright," said Stan hastily as he tried to properly adapt to the situation at hand. "How 'bout I, uh, leave this with you if ya get hungry during the night?" he ushered whilst tenderly holding a granola bar in one hand and a Pitt Cola he had snagged from a nearby counter in the other.

"If... you insist..." he answered, grabbing the bar rather forcefully and heading into the hall.

"Room's up the stairway, to the right."

He nodded as he started to proceed up the creaky steps of stairs. Halfway through his climb, he heard Stan's muffled steps behind him and he turned to face him.

"Hey, uh, kid, one last thing. I wanted to know if we could properly meet. I'm Stan. Stanford Pines," he stated by using his brother's name as a pseudonym like he had done for thirty years now.

He hesitated before finally extending his small hand himself.

"I... I'm, um, Matthew. Nice to meet you," he stated with a faint smile.

"Alright, nice knowin' ya. I'll leave you now," Stan replied as he returned the slight smile.

With the empty can of Pitt Cola, Stanley retreated back to the kitchen to dispose of it. As he did so, he sat down on one of the chairs and slowly started contemplating his decision earlier on with a more mature beverage this time at his side. Was it really sound to take in some random street child? What if he couldn't find out his origins and would have to decide what to do about him? What if something were to happen to him while he was under his watch? It was unnerving, to say the least, to think about these possibilities. Yet he had to do something, but what?

Stanley felt something he hadn't felt in years - conflict. He knew the life of scamming and cheating gullible idiots daily had made him soft and complacent to an extent, but he did not think it would have hindered his ability to distinguish from the rational and clearly emotional. Had he trusted his instincts and ignored him when he had been knocking on his door, he was certain that the child would have been lost even more or worse by now. But what if he had brought more trouble than worth by betraying his judgment? Stanley realised that he was close to relaying his thoughts on the outside, so in order to not bring himself to a nervous breakdown, he decided he'd just have to wait and see what fate had brought in store for him.

Having only drunk half of his beer, he swiftly whisked it away and put it into his secret hiding spot, away from any prying hands. Making his way out of the kitchen, he went on to indulge in yet another fruitless hour-long research session in the lab, after which he would proceed to keep up his unstable, but somehow efficient six-hour sleep regime, for he had the feeling that tomorrow was going to be a long and certainly exhilarating day.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hello again everyone. First, I'd like to thank all of you so much for the amount of views (and even a favourite!) I've received. I'm glad to see that reception for this fanfic is better than I hoped. Now, you may be wondering how I managed to complete Chapter II in such a short timeframe after Chapter I was posted. Well, the explanation for that is quite simple, actually - I just wrote half of Chapter II before I went on to post Chapter I, so, yeah. Don't count on Chapter III being posted so soon, though, because I'm a slow writer that does a lot, and I mean _a lot_ of edits (it's probably going to take a week/two, worst case three/four.) Nonetheless, enjoy the second chapter of "An Unexpected Arrival"!**

 **Disclaimer (new thing I saw the cool ff writers doing:) I don't own anything related to the fictional universe of Gravity Falls, nor the piece of media/show itself.**

 **Chapter II - The First Day**

Stanley awoke to the ear-piercing sound of his old-fashioned alarm clock that sat on a small end table. He sluggishly bent his hand over to the other side of the bed and silenced it for good. Slowly standing up and rubbing his eyes, he silently remarked the atmosphere around him - dust permeated the air of the vacant room and a small triangle-shaped window illuminated only a slither of outside light. Putting his feet to his slippers, he rose up from the sturdy bed and walked over the creaky floorboards to the nearby bathroom. Whilst trudging to it in silence, he thought about how old his brother's house really had been - he wondered if he ought to renovate it or at least make it more comfortable for living purposes, though he decided against it in order to adhere to a weird sentimentality he had held onto regarding the preservation of his brother's legacy. Mementos of his scientific journeys blended in with the various, equally surreal and crazy tourist attractions laid out for meager decoration purposes.

He reached the bathroom door and put his dry hand on the knob. Before he went in to do his sanitary duties, he noticed that Matthew was to the left of him, watching silently from the attic door. An uncomfortable silence befell the two. Before any of them broke it out, Stanley squinted his eyes as to get a better look at him since he didn't have the time yesterday and couldn't really see him now either. He noted some of the details of his face - heavy eye bags, reddish cheeks even some minor bruises that were badly covered up. His hair was of relatively medium length and had a distinct light brown hue, but the shape of his body had him thinking that he was some ten or fifteen pounds away from classifying for anorexia. He also bore a cyan coloured T-shirt, presumably medium or small size, that had a yellow lightning bolt embroidered in the centre. Along with it, he had on clearly rugged light brown pants that had surprisingly fit him and a pair of black sneakers. After finishing his brief but thorough inspection, he finally decided that he ought to say something.

"Uhh, kid," Stan began with a puzzled look. "Don't give me the creeps like that."

"S-sorry. I was just wondering if I could come out..." he replied with a fearful glance in his eyes.

"Err... why wouldn't ya?"

"I... uh... don't know?" he awkwardly uttered out.

"Okaay. Alright. I'll be, um, heading in. Go after me if ya want, though, heh."

"N-no, I'm, er, cool," Matthew replied after which he gave himself a mental facepalm for his poor choice of words.

Stan sighed.

"Alright then, suit y'aself."

Stanley turned the knob and entered the compact bathroom. As soon as he entered, he went over to the sink and looked at his glassy reflection. He deeply sighed and forcefully pinched his temple, having only just begun to think about the regretful and mortifying encounter he had with his newfound acquaintance.

"God, what am I gonna do..."

He stood there for a few seconds, wondering how and when he'd get on with finding the kid's origins and as to how he would be able to help him. Child services and other various government institutions crossed his mind, but he quickly dismissed them - he wasn't one to like said institutions nosing in over the credibility of his business at all. He had a bad feeling that he'd have to take on this predicament himself. That thought irked him - where would he even begin? Asking him direct questions was a possibility, but it wasn't a prudent one. Snooping around what little personal belongings he seemed to have also felt dirty, even for him.

As he was grabbing the toothbrush and pliers, it hit him. He realised that Matthew would obviously be distant had he questioned him as if he was on a judicial trial. Stan thought that maybe if he let him assimilate for a bit and give him time to get to know the residents of the town, he'd warm up and then he would be able to dig in and actively help him. With the sound plan in mind, he finally felt at ease and went on to resume the last of his morning bathroom rituals.

Stanley looked at the grandfather clock nearby - the time was 7:43 AM. He had an hour or so until he had to open up business for today, which he knew was plenty enough to eat breakfast, get dressed and even converse a bit with Matthew. He decided he'd best first go and clothe himself for the workday. In his room, he proceeded to, over his tank top, put on his favourite tacky suit, brandish his formal vagabond shoes, black pants and, of course, strap on his trademark fez, eyepatch and velvet coloured tie. Now proudly staring at his reflection, he went on to add the finishing touches to his grandiose appearance.

Returning back to the hall of the upper floor, he yet again took a gander at the clock and was a bit surprised as to how long he had apparently taken to dress. Shrugging it off and quickly snagging away his 8-ball cane from his room, he set out to do one last thing before officially opening the museum and gift shop - eat. He hastily descended the stairway and saw that Matthew was there, waiting for him yet again. This time though he felt as if he was more content than usual.

"Hey kid," began Stan with a smile on his face. "How's it hanging?"

"O...kay?" replied Matt with an inquisitive look. "What's it to you anyway..." he muttered out as well.

"Yeesh, sorry for even asking." retorted Stan, having now redacted in his mind his previous assumption regarding Matthew's well-being. "Anyway, there ain't a chance you're not hungry by now, so whaddya want?"

As Stan had already anticipated, the only response he got back was a puzzled expression.

"Urh," he growled silently as he went on to pinch his temple yet again, only this time lifting his glasses slightly. "Alright, how 'bout I, uh, fix up some pancakes, eh?"

Matthew hesitated before saying anything. The immense kindness Stan had already given him was still far too suspicious for his taste. He told himself that he had his reasons for doubting such a person - everything about Stan seemed off to him. From the very beginning he didn't trust him, but due to his circumstances, he hadn't a choice and accepted his offer to stay a night in his run-down house. Although he did not wish to succumb to his influence, he couldn't withstand his tormenting hunger.

"Fine..." he finally answered.

"Hey, now that's the spirit!" Stan cheerfully remarked as he already began to head into the kitchen. "Don't worry, you're gonna love my Stancakes."

Matthew remained eerily silent as he followed Stanley to the kitchen table without so much as a hint of autonomy. He sat himself down and watched as Stan proceeded to grab the necessary kitchen utensils for cooking his culinary masterpiece. He was quite surprised when he seemed to illustrate a decent level of proficiency in cooking after doing a few amusing tricks with the ingredients. Matt decided he ought to suppress his hunger by looking around and taking in the not so breathtaking atmosphere. He noticed that, like in every room he's been so far in Stanley's house, the furniture was run down and damp. It certainly didn't help that the smell of a cheap stove cooking started to be more than inviting to his already salivating mouth as well. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity to Matthew, Stanley finished the breakfast and proudly served it alongside the appropriate garnishments to the table. Despite the fact that Matt was famished, he didn't dare touch the food without Stan's permission. Stanley, already having served himself a sizeable plate, looked up to Matthew with a curious expression because of that.

"Hey, don't worry," Stan assured whilst singling out a piece from the huge stack on his plate. "the food ain't gonna bite."

"Y-yeah. Heh, I knew that.." he muttered.

"Well," he began, mouth full with an entire pancake. "Why's your plate still empty then?"

"Oh-er, yeah, I'll grab some..." he responded uneasily. He went to cut out a sizeable stack out of the full plate and plop it down onto his. Not even five seconds passed after he sat down before he started piling up pancakes in his mouth.

Oddly enough, Stan found a certain sweetness and fondness in his behaviour. He didn't want to go soft on him, but he had to admit that being a subject to his flippant ways was charming, even when they made him feel awkward.

"How's the grub?" inquired Stan.

"Oh... it's really good," he answered with an appreciative smile in return.

"Ha!" loudly laughed Stan, nearly frightening Matthew. "Finally, someone that can lie straight to my face about my horrible cooking and actually make me believe it for a sec!"

Out of Stan's self-deprecating joke, he and Matthew both exchanged a good-hearted laugh. Stan was glad that he had managed to somehow get through to him even a tiny bit. Although he did not know why he did it before executing his plan - after all, he knew he was just going to have to deal with him at some point or another. As he was eating, Stanley thought that maybe he could manage to take care of him on his own and that the short interaction they had shared now was proof of that; that maybe he didn't need such a complex plan and that he ought to just let things flow by themselves. But then another possibility crossed his mind - one that would require an enormous amount of work and trust in order to even be considered. He wasn't even sure if wanted it, so he decided that he'd just wait and see what happens. From his endearing thought session, he didn't realise that he had already eaten every pancake he had on his previously full plate and yet was still continuing to dig in, although this time his fork was scratching the porcelain of the plate and producing an uncomfortable sound enough to get Matthew's attention.

"Umm..."

"Huh? Oh, sorry kid," Stan apologetically said. "just zoned out for a bit, no worry."

Stanley, with a painful groan, slowly got up from the rusty chair and went to grab his, as well as Matthew's now empty plate and retreated to the filthy kitchen sink. After a short washing, he put them back in one of the cupboards and turned around, only to see Matt still sitting on the chair.

"Hm, you still here?" asked Stan.

"Yeah..." he responded whilst looking at the floor and waddling his legs.

"Okay... I'mma go open up shop for the day," declared Stan. "But while I'm at it, you can talk with some of my employees that are comin' soon."

"I guess...?" he replied as he finally looked up to face him.

"Alright. And keep that chin up, kiddo," he told him after which he gave him an assuring wink.

Stanley ventured to the museum and started graciously setting up for the day, earnestly hoping that he wouldn't be distracted any further. He walked into the museum and saw that some of the exhibits were a bit off due to what he presumed was the inadequacy of the customers that ogled over them. As he slowly bent to lift one of the bigger ones up, he felt how sturdy the actual platform it was on was, which worried him a bit, but he shrugged it off, knowing that there are much more dangerous hazards he ought to keep contained. It took him a good ten minutes to move all of them, and in addition hammer down a sign on the entrance warning tourists to not touch the exhibits under penalty of death, but he was nonetheless satisfied with the condition of the museum. But before Stanley could do anything, he had to wait for his employees to come. Just as he walked into the gift shop and stood next to the vending machine, he saw Soos, his mechanic and best man, emerge from the front door.

"Good morning, Mr. Pines!" cheerfully greeted Soos.

"Yeah, yeah, you too," replied Stan with a disregarding wave. "Alright, I'm startin' in a few minutes, but I can't make money without Wendy on the cashbox."

"Hmm…" Soos thought intently. "Oh yeah! She said she's gonna run a bit late, like, five minutes."

"What?!" exclaimed Stan. "She's lucky I don't pay her much..."

"Err, Mr. Pines...?"

"Yeah?"

"Who's the little dood behind you?"

Stan quickly turned around only to find himself facing Matthew yet again. On one side, he was glad that he had finally decided to go out of his comfort zone and explore, but at the same time, he now had more problems to deal with. He knew he had to help establish a stable relationship between Soos and Matthew, but he knew that wouldn't be hard since both of them weren't the most sociable types.

"Er, Soos, meet Matthew. Matt, meet Soos, my handyman. He helps me around the place," said Stan as he finished greeting them.

"Hey dood. I'm Soos, like Mr. Pines said. Heh," announced Soos after which he knelt to his level and extended his hand with a pleasant smile.

"Hi..." returned Matt as he shook his hand with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, yeah. If you two are done meetin' and all, can we get to work?" asked Stan while slightly pushing the two away. "Soos, I need ya to change one of the bulbs up in my room," he ordered as he gave a slight nod to Soos as a response to his confused expression regarding his new guest.

"You got it, Mr. Pines!" responded Soos as he gave Stan a salute and hailed off.

Stan breathed a sigh of relief for dealing with Soos this quickly, but he knew he still had another problem to deal with - Matt. He turned around to face him yet again while leaning on the vending machine.

"So, Matt, since I'm gonna be busy workin', I'm gonna leave ya to do what you want, but don't go wanderin' off into the forest or somewhere other than the shack. Deal?" asked Stan.

"Er, deal...?"

"Good. I'mma go and..."

Before Stan could finish his sentence, he saw the door burst open, only to reveal his second employee - Wendy, being late as usual and donning her usual attire.

"Ha, speaking... or at least was gonna speak of the devil!" angrily remarked Stan along with crossing his arms.

"Whoa, Mr. Pines. I'm late with, what, three minutes? Psh, big deal," stated Wendy with a great deal of apathy. "Blame the rain."

"Whatever, just get on that counter. Time is money and I can smell a busload of tourists coming!" he finished as he ran off to the museum to guide them.

What Stanley didn't realise, though, was that he had accidentally left Matthew in a precarious position with Wendy, with her not having noticed him yet. Matthew felt the good while it took her to finally glance at him.

"Huh? Hey, kid, did you get lost from the tour group, 'cause it's over there" she told him as she pointed a finger into the direction of the museum. "Gift shop's not open yet."

"I'm, uh, I'm with... Stan."

"What? Kid, Mr. Pines doesn't have any children. At least I don't think he does..."

"I'm not his kid... I... I came here yesterday asking for directions and he took me in... I don't know why." Matt finished as he now went to the counter and made eye contact with Wendy.

"Hm, strange. I never thought Mr. Pines was the empathetic type," she pondered.

"Heh, yeah... he doesn't look like it," commented Matt. "Oh, um, sorry, forget I said that. The customers are probably gonna arrive soon anyway, so..."

"Nah, dude, don't worry. Everybody talks behind everyone's back," she stated. "Plus, those idiots aren't coming out soon. Trust me."

"Alright..."

"Oh, I'm Wendy, by the way. I work the counter here. It's boring, like, always, but it's cool to have someone new around to talk to at least."

"Heh, thanks. I'm Matt," he stated again for what felt like the hundredth time these past few days.

"So..." Wendy began as she went to sit down on the counter chair. "Where are ya from?"

Matthew began to uncomfortably fumble around. It took Wendy only seconds to note the inconvenience she had created with her question.

"Hey, don't sweat it. I can relate to ya, not wanting to talk about your past and all," assured Wendy.

"Yeah, it's not something I would like to share... not now at least..."

"Well, do it when ya wanna do it. You seem like a cool guy, but man, cut the worry act. I ain't gonna bite."

"Heh, will try to. Don't ask me how I even found this place..." he humorously replied. "Let alone if I'm acting or anything."

"Oh man, I can hear those walking moneybags coming here already," she noted, completely ignoring Matthew's last sentence. "Welp, I'd hate to cut this short, but it seems like I have no choice if I wanna keep this measly job. See ya around though." she finished as she gave him a thumbs up and a warm smile.

"Yeah, sure..."

With no clear directive, Matt decided he should let Stan do his job and heed his advice and explore what little there is in the shack. He went to the front porch and sat down on the wooden platform that kept the whole thing together. The atmosphere filled him with the bad memories from yesterday. He tried to do his best to suppress them, but the gut-wrenching thought that he almost died out there, alone and in the cold shook him. It was strange that he even considered knocking on Stan's door, for the last thing he had expected out of the shack and its lone resident was salvation. Retreading back again, he also internally remarked how Stan was able to read through his lie and help him more than he could ever know. He admired that ability, and, to a certain extent, Stan himself. Oddly enough, after sitting on the porch for a good while, the forest's calm and welcoming demeanour slowly mitigated Matt's bad memories and replaced them with a sense of serenity and peace. He chuckled to himself, wondering if this is what nature at its best does to people. After listening more to the chirping of the birds and other various sounds from the forest, he went back in the shack, having heard the customers beginning to leave.

Entering it again, he saw that it was bustling with business. He began to wonder how much money Stan really made from his lucrative business and if he ever had any problems with the authorities. He imagined his practices would be quite profitable, yet notorious, although he couldn't really find a concrete answer in simply pondering upon it. Leaving that thought off for deliberation another day, he proceeded to head into the large crowd of customers in order to get to the museum and hopefully Stan. From the many accidental bumps he had with the handful of people who were all going in the opposite direction, he began ignoring his surroundings and, in doing so, suddenly tripped on a slightly raised floorboard. He wasn't able to regain his balance and hit something hard head-first that was surely not the floor. Only after he managed to get up from his crash and rub his throbbing head did he see that he had actually hit one of the customers' children. His immediate instinct was to go and apologise, but the child's mother pushed Matthew from it. Slowly backing away and beginning to frantically shake his head between the customers and the now-bawling child, he knew that his worst fear had become a reality - all eyes were on him for something he didn't do purposefully.

Whilst he was backing up, he realised he had reached the end of the line and was pressed to the hard wooden wall near the front door of the gift shop. It didn't help at all that he was a subject to the angry shoutings of the parents and the nearby patrons as well. All that Matthew did at that moment was wonder - wonder how, in one fell swoop, he had managed to make so many people loathe him? His mind was racing and he couldn't contain it, for he knew that he had to do something, anything, eventually. He then remembered Stan - he knew that after he had sabotaged his business that he would be furious beyond belief, like any businessman would. That was his cue to get out of here.

Wendy, having only now noticed the commotion, got up from her chair to see what was happening. She was shocked when she saw a familiar figure run out of the main door and into the woods. Then she realised what had happened and tried to contain the situation with refunds. Just as she went to do so, she saw Stan enter the room.

"Wendy! What happened?" asked Stan as he went to her counter.

"Mr. Pines!" Wendy responded, only half paying attention to him due to her trying to fix the situation at hand. "The kid… Matt, he did something and ran away into the woods!"

"What?!" Stan exclaimed, trying to assess the problem. "Quick, point me 'ta where he went. I'm gonna go after him!"

"Over there!" said one of the customers, having overheard Stan's request to Wendy.

Stan didn't waste a second and started furiously sprinting into the direction that Matthew had gone whilst yelling to the tour-goers that the gift shop is temporarily closed. A cold dread filled Stanley while running in-between the trees. Different scenarios occurred to him left and right, but he swallowed them down. He had to find Matthew, he just had to. Finally, after sensing that he might give way to exhaustion, he found a small clearing that overlooked the town from afar and on it he saw Matthew. Although relieved, he felt it turn into ashes only seconds later, for he saw him narrowly avoiding what he identified from his brother's manuscripts as a _yeti_ , although this one, unlike the ones illustrated in the journals, was near twice his size and bore a darkened shade of grey fur with a pair blood-red eyes contrasting it. Without a moment's hesitation, he swiftly dashed into the fray and lunged himself to save Matthew from a furious claw strike that hit him instead and ripped his suit. After painfully getting up and helping a surprised Matt up to his feet, he noted that they were near the edge of the clearing. The yeti was nearing them and they were forced to walk back as much as they could. Stan knew that he had to think of something fast or they were done for.

"Kid... what the heck were ya thinking?" Stan began with heavy sighs in between his words.

"I-I'm sorry, Stan..."

"Now's not the time! Quick, we've gotta think of somethin' to distract it."

Matt looked around. There wasn't much to choose from, but his survival instincts kicked in and he quickly forged a plan. He dashed to the left and grabbed one of the bigger rocks laying there. Just as he had anticipated, the yeti turned to run at him and he threw the rock with full force in its mangled face. The sheer blow of the rock made it tread backwards in an unstable manner.

"Quick! Go!" Matt yelled.

"Not with you I ain't!" Stan sternly ordered as he ran to him.

"But..." he began, but decided not to continue after seeing the yeti beginning to stabilise itself.

"Come on!" Stan yelled as he whisked Matt's hand away and sprinted through the forest back to the direction of the Mystery Shack.

Thankfully, after they knew the yeti had lost them, they resumed a normal pace. All was quiet between the two for a while. Both of them were thoroughly exhausted from the encounter had they just had with one of Gravity Falls' paranormal oddities. So many questions crossed Matthew's mind about the events that transpired today. He couldn't resist the temptation and couldn't bear the eerie silence.

"So, um... where are we going?" Matt asked.

"Whaddya mean? Back to the shack of course." Stan retorted.

"But... aren't you... mad at me? I-I mean, I ruined your business..."

"What?" Stan responded lightheartedly and with a laugh. "Kid, my business ain't gonna go down 'cause of one bad day. Heck, might as well take the day off to dress this bad boy." he finished as he gestured to his wound.

"What was that... thing, though?"

Stanley sighed.

"Look, Matt, the forest here at my place and the town nearby, Gravity Falls, are both weird. All I know is that they're both dangerous and filled with things like that." Stan answered.

"So... that's why you didn't want me to leave the shack..."

"Ayup." nodded Stan.

The rest of the way to the Mystery Shack was silent, except for the sound of the duo's footsteps and the familiar chirping of the birds. After Stan's revelation, the forest now seemed all the more uninviting to him and he regretted ever thinking otherwise. He didn't hate it at first, but now, after having the creatures that lurk in it nearly kill him, he knew that his first impression was one of a ruse. After a while of walking and following signs, both of them finally saw the shack in view and rejoiced.

"Hey, um... I just wanted to say... thanks," said Matt seemingly out of nowhere.

"Thanks for what, kid?"

"Well... everything. For taking me in, for giving me somewhere to... to sleep, for saving my l-life..." he went on as he began to tear up. "And all I did is s-stab you in the back..." he muttered out.

Stan noticed that and knelt down to him, just as he had done yesterday when he was but a complete stranger.

"Hey, kid, c'mon," soothed Stan. "Don't let me take all the glory..."

"W-what...?"

Stan wholeheartedly chuckled.

"Matt, if it ain't for you, we'd have both been goners by now. You saved my life too," congratulated Stan. "And don't forget that. Ever. And believe me when I say that already makes ya a better person than me."

Matthew could not handle it. The sheer altruism emanating from Stan brought him to a breaking point. He wasn't used to this, wasn't used to love, especially from someone he had just met yesterday. He leapt into his bulky arms and hugged him with an iron grip.

"Thank you... so much..." he said with tear-ridden eyes. "It's... it's been so long..."

"I know, kiddo. I know..." Stan told him, having finally made a decision regarding him.

With that, Matt let go of him. They made their way to the gift shop door once more and entered.

"Mr. Pines!" Wendy exclaimed. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine, Wendy," Stan said with a painful groan in-between sentences. "Go and take the day off. Ya earned it for keepin' this whole thing under control..."

Wendy looked appalled.

"Wow, um, 'kay then," she responded as she went to grab her stuff. "You sure you're not sick, though, 'cause this is pretty strange for you."

"Huh, I'm gettin' the feeling you wanna stay cooped up here?"

"Oh, no, no!" Wendy hastily replied as she quickly exited through the door.

With Wendy gone, Stan turned his attention to Matt.

"Say, after I dress this, wanna have some lunch? I'm starvin'," proposed Stan.

Matt laughed.

"It would be my pleasure, Mr. Pines."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hello again everyone! First, I'd like to thank all of you for the 100 views I've gotten on my fic! It's truly an honour to have so many people just read my stuff (or even click on it,) so to show my gratitude, I decided to make this chapter a long one and I kind of made it longer than the first two. Nonetheless, gratitude aside, please enjoy the third chapter of "AUA"!**

 **Disclaimer: I own noooooooothing**

 **Chapter III - A Welcome Bondage**

 _The darkness crept in the little paradise he had been used to living on. He did not see it at first - he just kept living his life in the little bubble filled with a misplaced hope. The darkness' tendrils seeped into the smaller, more unnoticeable things firsthand, but soon enough it had grown like an unquarantined disease. When he finally felt it; realised its influence, he furiously tried to push it away, he wanted to make it leave him alone, but it had been too late. He could not stop it. And then he saw it - all that he had tirelessly worked to build and preserve in that world vanish in the blink of an eye. And he was now left alone again. He had so many questions on his mind - what was he doing here, what did he do to deserve this? Was he stupid to ever believe that he could finally live a peaceful life, at least somewhere away from reality? Probably. But that didn't matter now. Everything was gone and all that lingered on was he and the void. Out of the nothingness materialised a door - if he had to be frank, it was the blandest one he had ever seen, carved out of plain wood, presumably oak as far as his tree knowledge went. He walked, no, levitated to it monotonously and opened it. The creaking of the worn-out hinges was evident and behind the said door was a dimly lit corridor with various other doors on its side walls that were more akin to gateways - this time they were all made from a variety of materials and bore different sizes - some cheap and large, others small and expensive. He went to face the first one on the left - it was small, but superfluously decorated. He turned the knob with his hand and upon opening it saw a boy and a girl - ones he did not recognise - frolicking in a forest with him. They were both his age and seemed as if though they enjoyed his company. The scenery quickly changed and he saw a familiar face - Stan - looking happier than ever with another person whose back was turned and face was hidden from his purview. And then, the scene changed again. And again. He continually saw new faces and new places, but none were of real importance to him. But he did notice one pattern: everyone involved was seemingly happy. It was odd, because even he - a person who was now stripped away of all he ever held dear - was happy in the universe held in the small and nicely decorated door. He even tried entering the scenes, but he could not, for he was only allowed to silently watch. As yet another unknown person's scene ended, the entire film abruptly stopped and the door closed itself, only leaving him perplexed out of the entire experience. Looking back at the hallway, he saw another door next to the first one that seemed to directly contrast it. It was made out of a sharp wood that could've given any unfortunate soul a myriad of splinters even from the slightest touch and was covered in a variety of unappealing flora - vines, decayed flowers and many others he did not recognise. Navigating his hand through the thorn-filled plants, he opened the second door. The scenery that greeted him was just as vile and uninviting as the door itself - he saw a multitude of horrid events, some that even included him: apocalyptic cascades, eldritch monstrosities, vile and harrowing displays of terror absolute. He wanted to stop, to close the wretched display, but he could not. For some reason unbeknownst to him, he was bound to watching. He could not shriek or make even the smallest of peeps to show the disgust or horror he was internally feeling from witnessing the constantly changing scenes before him. Finally, it ceased and the door violently shut itself, knocking him backwards with significant force. After slowly stabilising from the blow, he realised he had no control over his body. His vessel proceeded to venture drag on down to the end of the corridor where he saw yet another entrance, but contrary to the others in the corridor, this one was as bland as the one from which he had first entered. He thought that pattern might mean that door was an exit, but he had the underlying fear that it might be something else - something much more sinister and dire. He didn't want to open it. But his body wished otherwise._

 _Unwillingly, Matthew entered the darkness yet again, but strangely, he felt as though he were standing on a surface of some sort. Suddenly, he felt the grasp on his will break as he resumed full control over his body, although he soon came to the realisation that he could not levitate wherever he pleased, which frightened him. The thought of having only entered another nightmarish realm made him want to get away, no,_ _ **wake up**_ _, from it. He then understood it; he was dreaming. He silently remarked how stupid of a deduction that had been due to its glaring candor, but he knew that his mind had kept him from thinking so up until now. Maybe it was intentional that he only now discovered this, he thought to himself. Maybe someone else was really pulling the strings here, in his mind._

 _As if on cue, after he finished that thought, the entire room lit up with blue fire that formed a straight pathway. He looked around himself and realised that he was in a massive throne room of sorts, complete with finely chiselled marble pillars that held the entire structure together all the way from the door to the majestic throne itself. He glanced at the seat of power - although it was as huge and grandiose as the rest of the room, made from a woeful obsidian and adorned with all manner of symbolic carvings and gemstones, he couldn't help but notice the lack of a kingly figure there. As he hesitantly walked over the giant purple carpet laid out and over to the front of the throne itself, he began to wonder who could possibly be behind all of this. Chances are, he thought, that it was someone he didn't know of, for this world liked to pull unwelcome surprises on him. He finally got to the front of the massive seat, but after daringly taking another step forward, he felt a pressure plate click under his foot. Just as he realised what he had done, a huge flash of white light engrossed his retinas, leaving him vulnerable for a few seconds. After managing to rub his eyes from the hurtful light, he looked up and discerned a figure - a yellow, triangle-shaped and anthropomorphic demon holding a cane in one of its long black limbs. Its one eye did not shed light on its horrifying appearance moreso, which irked him. He was shocked, to say the least, of the thing that had appeared before him, but before he could do anything, he was thrown into a conversation with his newfound acquaintance._

" _Hey there, slick!" he greeted with a high-pitched and eerie robotic voice as the white light slowly dissipated and suffused away. "Name's Bill Cipher, but you can call me Bill!"_

" _Hi…" he began as he only realised how hoarse his voice was. "My name is-"_

" _Yeah, yeah," Bill interrupted. "I know all about ya, lightning bolt. You're real interesting for me to already know this, so take that as a compliment! Thing is, though, you don't know a lot about..._ _ **me**_ _." he suddenly finished with a deep and terrifying voice._

 _Matt jumped back and gulped._

 _Bill let out a good laugh as if he had just heard the best joke in his life._

" _Sorry for the scare there! Forgot you mortals weren't used to the Dreamscape and all of the limitless potential for practical jokes it holds."_

" _The... Dreamscape?" inquired Matt._

" _Yeesh, how far behind are you, kid?"_

 _Matt returned only an insulted look._

" _Kidding, kidding. Look, you're dreaming now, right?" rhetorically asked Bill while twirling around his cane. "I can visit you in dreams. That's sorta my specialty, being a dream demon and all."_

" _Dream demon?"_

" _Yep," he confirmed. "But look, that's beside the point. Thing is, you've been getting pretty close with that old geezer Stan. Maybe we could maybe work some sort of trade with you helping me and me helping you."_

" _Helping you with what...?" asked Matt, feeling heavily apprehensive at the entity's sudden dump of information._

" _Kid, don't worry. I'll do my thing in a day tops. After that you can ask for absolutely anything in the whole universe and I'll grant it to you. I'm not gonna let your body get a scratch, either."_

 _Matt was at a loss of words. This demon who he had just met was asking him for his body and will. Despite the fact that he surely did not want to accept his offer, he remained fearful of his power and capabilities. He decided to stall for time._

" _I'm... not sure. Can you give me some time to think about this?" Matthew bluffed._

 _Bill sighed._

" _Kid, you've got about three and a half more minutes until you wake up." he declared. "So make your choice quick."_

 _Matthew pondered upon the offer yet again. As anyone out there, there'd been plenty of things he could want in the universe and to be faced with such an opportunity had seemed too good to be true. But when he had heard the mention of Stan, he was fearful that he might do something to him - something he couldn't undo - and he couldn't let more people get hurt on his watch, not anymore. He had already made his choice, but how could he tell it to an almighty dream demon?_

" _Tick-tock, kid," said Bill, breaking the silence and proceeding to extend his free, now engulfed entirely in blue flames hand. "Don't disappoint me."_

" _I, uh..."_

" _Well?"_

" _I decline."_

 _Suddenly, the entire room went dark again and all blue flames dissipated. The only emitting light was the yellow glow from Bill's triangle body._

" _Well, you've disappointed me, kid," said Bill as he turned around and crossed his arms. "It seems I'm going to have to resort to using..._ _ **other measures**_ _." he finished with the same deep voice._

" _W-what?" Matt fearfully replied._

" _You'll see. Welp, hate to cut this short, but I'll be off. Just know that the next time you come back here, it's not going to be pretty." threatened Bill. "Anyway, sweet dreams!" he said as he waved Matt goodbye and snapped his fingers._

Matthew awoke with a loud gasp. After taking a minute to calm himself down, he ran a hand through his forehead and felt the large amount of sweat that accumulated on his hand. He looked around and saw the light shining through one of the windows above him - it was morning, finally. He was shaken from the experience he just had - he kept denying the plausibility of it and went on to assure himself with false explanations - he thought his 'friend' was just a figment of his own vivid imagination, or that his lucidness halfway through was due to his previous attempts to control his dreams. But deep down he knew the truth - what happened in his dream was nothing short of real and the vague, fear-inducing message Bill had left him with haunted him as he got up from his bed in the attic room. Despite sleeping with the same clothes he usually wears, he did not reek of filth, but nonetheless, he decided he ought to shower before heading down to start the day.

While walking down the corridor, he began pushing his mind to think about other things and not the experience he had just lived through. He even thought about everything that had transpired yesterday - about the whole ordeal at the shack and the yeti, and after everything after that as well, including the pleasant lunch he had with Stan and the exploring he had done by himself in the shack for the bigger part of the day. He chuckled at the fact that he could name almost every room already. When he arrived at the bathroom door, he began wondering if Stan had really accepted him and if he really had the right to act as if he was living here. He didn't want to bother him, yet he still wanted to keep up his hygiene, so he went in, but before he did, he made a mental note that he'd ask Stan if it was okay to use the facilities in the shack in the future. Even in the bathroom, where the only noise that was evident was the running of the water and the quiet hum of one of the fluorescent lamps, he still couldn't help but retread his mind back to his dream, but he didn't think about Bill Cipher only - he wondered what the doors meant and if they had any connection with him. While he was making one of his theories as to what transpired, he remembered what Stan told him the other day - that Gravity Falls was weird. No wonder that after seeing a yeti almost kill both of them that there would be something much more dangerous in play. All of these possibilities, all of these odd occurrences were enough to make him haywire. He dreaded the next time he had to go to sleep, he loathed how he was taking a shower in a stranger's bathroom, he was afraid - afraid of everything around him. Deep down he knew that what he wanted most was to get accepted - it was something that he craved desperately, and he wanted it not only from Stan, but from everyone else - he wanted the people around him to not brandish him as an outcast or a weirdo for a simple mistake he had made!

It took him a moment to realise that he had instinctively punched the wall in front of him with brute force. It was a good thing that the sound of the water was so loud or otherwise he would've gotten a problem on his hands. He knew that he had finally let out the feelings he had kept buried for so long and that they were now plaguing his mind. And it was all because of the dream and that demon. Feeling defeated and utterly pathetic, he surrendered himself to the will of the warm water. He had heard from somewhere that bathrooms were the places where people tend to be the most melancholic - it was ironic, for he was already beginning to shed tears from the accumulated pressure. After letting his feelings out for a good while and feeling thoroughly emotionally drained, he finally turned the faucet and shut the flow of water. He took a glance at his reflection after clothing himself - it was the same worn out face he had grown to resent over the years. He finally exited the bathroom with a bad omen weighing on his conscience.

He went into the kitchen and, surprisingly, found Stan underdressed, reading the newspaper and drinking his morning coffee. He still had some breakfast whipped up, but it was quite odd to see him not ready for the day.

"Hey kid, there ya are!" greeted Stan as he lit his face up from the newspaper.

"Good Morning."

"Yeah, you too," dismissed Stan. "Anyway, grab somethin' to eat. I won't be opening shop today again. My wound's being a pain in my butt."

That also struck him as strange. From what he had gathered about Stan's character, he felt as if it wasn't like him to miss work just because of some wound. Maybe he wanted to give himself some time to heal and he was honest, but he had a hunch it was something else.

"Didn't it heal already?" asked Matt.

"Nah, it's a pretty deep cut. That ugly sonuva gun did a number on me," admitted Stan. "So, since I can't do my oh-so physically involving stuff, I thought I'd take this day off as well."

"So you're going to leave Wendy and um..." he said as he forgot the name of the second person working for him.

"Soos. And no, I ain't gonna have them ruin my business. So if I'm takin' one off, that means they are too."

Although he was perplexed by this too, he just shrugged it off, thinking that Stan probably knows what's best. He went and served himself a helping of one of Stan's dishes.

"Soo," began Stan as he finally closed his newspaper. "How are ya?"

"Eh, fine," he shrugged.

"Sleep well?"

"As well as anyone can, I guess...?" he lied.

"Those bags under your eyes say otherwise, kid," retorted Stan.

"But I, uh… I had them all the way from yesterday!"

"Eh, true. Just never bothered to ask you about it," he told him. "But I am now."

"Look, I'm fine!" he responded as he slightly raised up his voice.

"Hey, don't raise your tone at me, kid."

Matt didn't respond to him. He couldn't tell him about his dream - Stan would think he is a lunatic in that case, but he also didn't want to anger him with a bad attitude. After a short silence, he finally piped up.

"Sorry..."

Stan looked at the ground and frowned.

"Ah, t'sokay. If ya don't wanna say, that's fine by me."

"Thanks," Matt responded with a smile.

"No problem," he said, returning the smile.

In the midst of eating, he suddenly remembered about that mental note he had made before entering the bathroom.

"Oh, hey, I wanted to ask if it's um, okay if I use the bathroom and stuff...?"

"Well, of course, kid." Stan answered with a laugh. "What kinda question is that?"

Matt simply shrugged in response, not knowing what type of answer to have expected from Stan.

After finishing his meal and getting up to outserve his dish, he was stopped dead in his track by Stan.

"Hey, kid!"

Matt turned around.

"What?" he asked with a confused expression.

"I was wondering, since you're gonna be staying here for a while, like we talked 'bout yesterday, if you'd wanna help me around the shack?"

Matt thought about it for a bit. He knew he had nothing else really going on and he was certain that some mindless labour would distract his worried mind, so it was a win-win for him.

"You can start now if ya want or tomorrow. It's simple stuff, like movin' and cleaning." offered Stan. "That sound good?"

"Hmm... what would you want me to do now?"

Stan thought intently.

"Well, nothin' much really. Maybe sweep the floors in the gift shop a bit, somethin' simple. So, deal?" asked Stan as he proceeded to raise his hand just like Bill Cipher did so in Matt's dream, which made him jump a little.

"What? Does cleaning the floors scare thee? Ha!" Stan laughed loudly.

"Um... no, no. It's just... nothing. But the job's fine by me..." he said as he hesitantly shook Stan's hand.

"Glad 'ta hear it," he happily replied as he shot him a finger gun and a smile.

With a clear purpose in mind and a bad feeling yet again, he left the kitchen. He went to the gift shop and grabbed a nearby broom. Just as he was sweeping, he noticed how dirty even the shack's finer rooms actually were. That observation amused him, for it spoke volumes about the kind of employees Stan had at his disposal. While he was cleaning behind the counter, he heard the door opening and someone coming in - that someone was Soos, who was in the dark as to Stan's decision regarding the work day. As Matt got up from cleaning some peculiar souvenir trinkets back from the counter that were presumably left by Wendy, he saw Soos going through the 'Employees Only' door. He quickly ran to him and consequently to the living room, where Stan had been comfortably situated.

"So as I was sayin'," began Stan, but before continuing, he noticed Matthew's presence. "Today's off. Sorry I didn't tell ya, Soos."

"Oh," said Soos with a glint of sadness evident in his voice. "Okay then, Mr. Pines."

After Soos went out of the living room, Stan wondered what Matthew was doing there.

"Hey kid, ya done with the cleaning?"

"Yeah, actually," he responded confidently.

Stan thought for a bit.

"Hey, look," he began. "Since Soos is gonna be free today and since you ain't got nothing to do, why don't ya hang out with him for a bit?"

At that, Matt unnervingly rubbed the back of his head. It wasn't as if though he had anything against Soos, for he had seemed fine by him, but he was juggling between the different possibilities and scenarios that might occur if he were to accept Stan's proposal. Really, it was the sheer ambiguity of what hanging out with Soos had meant to him.

"Well, I... guess? If you insist," he answered to yet another of his undeniable propositions, much to his distaste.

"Ah, don't worry," said Stan as he got up and patted him on the back. "Soos's a good guy. You'll get along. Heck, even more so if you're into that geek stuff."

Although Matt was a fan of some activities and topics commonly branded as 'geeky,' he wasn't passionate about any, as he had never really had time to indulge in them. Maybe now he could see them in a new light through Soos' guidance, he thought and sardonically chuckled under his breath. Stan nudged him to the door and both of them saw something strange - Soos was still standing in the gift shop and was staring intently at the ground, as if though he were analysing it. Both Stan and Matt remarked him with confused expressions and the former, not bearing the awkward silence anymore, finally opted to say something.

"Soos, what're ya doing?" he asked.

"Oh, Mr. Pines, sorry! I just noticed how clean the floor here is! A lot more than usual!" he responded in an awe-filled voice.

"Yeah, well you can owe that to this guy right 'ere." said Stan as he gestured to Matt.

"Woah, dood. You did this?"

"It's not, um, much, really," said Matt.

"Yeah, yeah, cut the chit-chatter," ordered Stan. "Soos, since you're gonna be free today, Matt wanted to see if you two could hang out." he said, bursting out laughing halfway through and making Matt turn red.

Soos thought for a bit.

"Sure, dood. I'm not doing much today and we could go into town!"

"And you're… cool with that?" asked Matt just so he could be sure.

Soos simply nodded and Matt found the courage to smile at that. They left the shack while Stan was still laughing at his own attempt to embarrass Matt. Matthew saw Soos heading into the forest and that made him suddenly stop.

"Um, Soos...?"

"Yeah, dood?"

"Are we going to go through the... forest?" asked Matt.

"Yeah, why not? I mean, I don't think there's any other way to town, heh."

Matt gulped. He didn't want to meet the creature he had an encounter with yesterday again, but he also didn't want to sound nuts.

"No... it's just..." he trailed off. "Nevermind."

The duo proceeded to head into the forest. The sound of the rummaging of leaves nearby from the calm and dry wind made Matthew even more apprehensive, for he wondered what other wildlife could be lurking around, just waiting to surprise both of them. Matt remarked how tall the trees stood amidst the straightforward path to the town. While slowly trudging, he unconsciously began experiencing a cathartic journey simply from surrendering to the same place he had damned only a day before. It was ironic, to an extent and he knew that, but he didn't care. Who knows, he thought to himself, maybe he had a connection with nature itself and no matter what beast or thing it threw at him, he would always look to it as a bastion wherein to harness his inner peace and tranquility - something he couldn't say for any other place nor any other forest. He finally thought that, despite everything, maybe the path wasn't as bad or dangerous as the forest itself.

"Hey, dood?" Soos suddenly asked just as he had finished his little thought session.

"Yep?"

"Can I ask you something? And don't answer it if ya don't wanna."

"Err, sure," responded Matt.

"How, um... how did you come here?"

Matt remained silent for a bit and proceeded to turn his expression at the ground. Soos caught wind of this fast.

"Look, dood, it's okay if you don't wanna!" said Soos while painfully trying to fix the situation.

"No..."

"Huh?"

"I... I have to tell someone eventually. Might as well start with you," he stated with a slight chuckle.

Matt braced himself and deeply sighed.

"I... I ran away from home. Or what I had to call home, anyway," told Matthew. "See, I'm... I'm kind of a foster child. I've been to a lot of homes and some were bad... really bad. I never knew my parents and I don't know what ever happened to them. I just... I don't know... wonder if they're somewhere out there in the world and if they even care about me," he finished and stared at the ground yet again with a gloomy and bleak expression.

Soos looked ahead with an evident frown on his face. He too sighed.

"Look, dood, I'm sorry you had to go through that. And believe me, I know it's tough. The only person I've got now is my Abuelita," said Soos. "Heh, even my dad, the guy I wanted the most to be there for me, didn't even show up. That's... Kinda the reason I have so many postcards in my room from where he's been," he chuckled.

A slight pause occurred before Soos said anything again.

"But... trust me when I tell you that Stan is... is like the dad I never had growing up. I know ya don't see it now, but after you get to know him a bit better, you'll see that he's a good person inside. Like everyone. Even my dad, and even your real parents," finished Soos with a warm smile on his face.

Matt didn't want to listen to him - he wanted to say how wrong he was for thinking so nicely of everyone who had betrayed him. He even wanted to call him stupid for that, but he couldn't find the courage, no, the right to do so. Deep down Matthew knew that Soos was right - at least for humans and not demons - and that his prejudiced thoughts on some of his foster parents were nothing more than lies he had told himself to justify his actions. But could he blame himself? He had been a victim of a sizeable roster of vicious and cruel ones and that made him wary of all of them - including, at first glance, Stan himself.

"Yeah," he said with a sigh. "I suppose you're right."

He didn't realise it immediately, but both he and Soos were slowly entering a more urbanised area. It wasn't until Matt saw a building that the fact they were in the town became evident.

"Huh, so this is the town," stated Matt as he and Soos were now both walking on concrete slabs that formed a small path around the roads.

"Yep, Gravity Falls!" Soos responded as he graciously gestured to the town's lurid appearance.

Matt simply nodded.

"Sooo, I was thinking we could hit the arcade or somethin'," suggested Soos. "And don't worry, heh, it's on me!"

Although Matt hesitated, he soon came to the internal realisation that he had never really been to an arcade before, and as much as he did not want to admit, he was a bit curious as to what it would be.

"Sure, that sounds interesting!"

Funnily enough, the building was just near them - it was as if though Soos had intended for them to originally head there. That thought crossed Matt's mind, but he was not irrevocably fazed from it - he had simply been glad that he was slowly getting accepted by someone other than his de-facto caretaker. They arrived at the doors of the arcade and from the neon sign, Matt already deducted that this establishment was going to be one emanating with hyperactivity and predominated by youthful faces full of soon to be ruined vigour. Ignoring his judgement, they proceeded to head into the arcade itself. The first thing that Matt took note of upon their arrival was the lack of people in the separate arcade booths, as well as the lack of functional lighting in the building.

"Um, Soos, why are the lights out? And where are all the people?" asked Matt, with his voice echoing throughout the main hall and the one next to it.

"Don't worry, dood. I caught the time when for some reason no one is at the arcade. Huh, and apparently I caught the time with no light bulbs either!" stated Soos cheerfully as he dangled the burnt light bulb.

Matt replied with a raised eyebrow and a slight nod.

"Anyway, which booth do you wanna pick? I've been waiting all week to try out this new one that came in," Soos told him.

"I'm, um, fine with your recommendation. You're the master of this place, after all," he said with a slight chuckle.

"Then off to the new booth it is!"

After proceeding to buy a dozen of chips from the counter at the front, the duo went and juked it out at the booth. Matthew didn't feel time fly by as he became immersed by the artistry of the arcade games that provided a form of escapism to his troubled mind. Soos, as well, enjoyed having someone to play with and was also enamoured by the captivation of the new game. Only after wasting the last of his chips did Soos realise that they had spent more than two hours at the booth.

"Uh, dood. I'm out of chips and we kinda spent two hours on just this game," stated Soos. "Heh, guess it's really something!"

"Yeah, I guess..." replied Matt as he finally trailed his vision from the small screen.

"Hm... it's only noon and we ran outta chips..." wondered out loud Soos. "Wanna go and grab lunch at the snack bar?"

"Eh, I don't know. I already made you waste a lot of money..."

"Ah, don't sweat it, dood. I'm just glad someone decided to hang out with me," said Soos with a sheepish smile.

Matt could not help but return the smile.

"Ah, what the heck..."

"Yes! To the snack bar!"

After grabbing some rather repulsing food, as was to be really expected from the establishment, the pair left the arcade. With no clear place to go to, they settled on just strolling around town in order for Matthew to get a better picture of what lay beyond the confines of the shack. During their little walk, Matthew became a subject to quite the list of events - some so odd that cannot bear description, but others were mainly just him perceiving the antics of the many townsfolk from afar with Soos giving him vivid details as to their lives and relationships. The mere fact that he knew so much about so many people astonished him, but he ignored his awe tried to digest the information he got as best he could. After hearing yet another one of Soos' anecdotes regarding one of the residents, Matt decided he ought to try and tell him that he's seen his fair share of the townsfolk.

"Hey, Soos, are there any interesting places to visit around here? I mean, the people here are... interestingly weird and all, but anything else?"

"Hm..." Soos focused. "Hey, I could take you to the Gravity Falls museum! They've got lots of cool stuff about the town there. Even I liked it!"

Although hopping around the town was getting tiresome for Matthew, he didn't want to go back to the shack yet or he knew he'd spend an unhealthy amount of time thinking about the meaning of his dream, not to mention the possibility of Stan still being there to tease them. He was glad this outing had proved as a distraction and was successful in regards to his relationship with Soos. As they were making their way to the museum, Matthew accidentally bumped into someone much shorter than him, causing the person to consequently fall. After trying to help the person recuperate, but failing as a result of his knee-jerk reaction to Matthew touching him, he shrivelled back with a scare. Only after the victim got up did he read his features - unnaturally huge white hair predominated his body and was possibly the most outlining characteristic of his otherwise disproportionate body. He was, after all, a boy - a boy that bore a white suit with a black shirt underneath and a little clip-on tie along with it. Its short stature made the grandiose appearance given off to be nothing more than a cause for laughter, but at this point in time, Matthew managed to suppress that urge.

"Who do you think you are?!" he yelled at Matt with a Southern-American dialect and a high-pitched voice.

"Um... no one in particular?" replied Soos.

"Shut up!" he screamed as his face turned red. "I was going to have this suit dyed, but now I'm gonna have 'ta clean it because'a YOU!" he pointed at Matt.

"I'm sorry, but it wasn't..."

"Look, boy, I do not know who you are. Heck, I ain't even seen ya 'round town, I bet you're some nobody who just showed up. But what I DO know is that I don't like you! And if you are new around here, then lemme be the first one to tell you that ain't good."

Matt gulped.

"Look, dood, my friend is sorry. Can you maybe chill for a bit?" asked Soos, not expecting a pleasant answer.

The child's eye began twitching violently. It murmured a couple of incoherent and meaningless sentences under its breath and hastily dove off to the opposite direction.

"Yeesh, that was awkward," ratified Soos and turned to see a distressed Matt. "Ah, don't let him get to ya, dood. He's a meanie."

Matt sighed.

"He's right, though..."

"Huh?"

"I am a nobody. I don't know if I even belong here, Soos..." said Matt.

"Dood, this town if full of weirdos like that kid and me," stated Soos. "Don't worry, you're cool and you're gonna fit right in here."

Matthew didn't answer him. He just hoped what he said wasn't blind reassurance to get him to stop being so sensitive. As they hastily continued down the sidewalk, the Gravity Falls museum came in view as well. Matthew was thoroughly impressed by its size and architecture - the two gargantuan, well-chiselled owls that sat guarding the building and its knowledge, as well as the set of pillars on the main entrance also added another layer of astonishment to Matthew's mind. What ceased that awe, unfortunately, was the realisation that they had been made of nothing else but marble, although they had looked akin to the pillars from his dream, which shook him and made him slightly apprehensive at the idea of entering the museum. Suppressing that fear as he was used to doing so quite often today, the two climbed up the steps of the entrance to the building. What they didn't foresee as they were already at the main entrance, though, was the sight of a frantic and seemingly crazed man running out of the museum while shouting meaningless jumble. Soos managed to intercept him before he ran away from the site fully, curious as to what had happened as to cause him to snap.

"Woah, dood!" said Soos as he held the man steady near the entrance. "What's going on?"

"F-F-FIRE! THE MUSEUM IS ON FIRE! THERE'S SOMEONE IN THERE T-TRAPPED!" he screeched with an ear-piercing voice.

Soos and Matt looked at each other with eyes wide. They could already smell the smoke coming out of the museum. Both of them knew that going in there was nothing less of a suicide mission, but Matthew's urge to do the right thing with clear judgement for once in his life made him not care. He took a gigantic breath and plummeted in the fiery pits of the museum with his shirt acting as a makeshift handkerchief.

"Dood, wait!" yelled Soos, but it had already been too late and the boy had entered the museum. A chill went through his spine at the thought of what could happen to Matt. He was about to run out and call for help, for anyone to save them, but he knew that endeavour would be folly. Stan had entrusted him with Matthew, and he was not about to betray that. Taking a deep breath, he too rushed in.

The building was, unsurprisingly, on fire. The flames were condensed in mostly the main hall, which meant that both Soos and Matthew hadn't been far away from any possible location in which the trapped person might be. Soos desperately followed Matt's trail, but the smoke was taking a heavy toll on him and his ability to run. It wasn't until he saw Matthew struggle that he found the inner strength to run in and save him. But he was wrong, for Matt hadn't been the only one in need of saving, but the girl he had been helping up from the ground as well - the trapped person the man had shouted about. Soos, now barely sustaining himself, found one last pocket of air to breathe out and dove in to grab the two children. With them safely tucked in his burly arms, he ran out of the now utterly engulfed in flames-and-smoke building, only barely making it out. He put them down and they, as well as he himself, instantly began coughing out the vile fumes and gasping for much-needed air.

By the time they recovered from their asphyxiation, they were already surrounded by the girl's parents, as well as a handful of townsfolk that congratulated them and the fire department, which unceremoniously pushed them away in order to put out the fire. The girl's parents went and personally thanked Matthew and Soos for their gracious act of heroism in saving their daughter. Just then, Soos noticed that he had actually seen the girl somewhere before - she was Asian, wore glasses and a green sweater with darker stripes of the same colour. Nonetheless, she was kind and grateful to both of them as well, and even gave Matt a hug, which Soos clearly saw made him blush a bit, much to his own childlike glee. After watching the fire be put out in the matter of a minute, both decided it would be best if they headed home, for it had already been dusk.

"Wow, now that was intense, dood," stated Soos as they started distancing themselves from the now-dissipated crowd of people.

"Yeah..." Matt answered as he padded a part of his burned shirt.

"But... why did ya do it?"

"Hm?"

"Why did you go in, dood? I... I mean, Stan put his trust in me to make sure you're not hurt," revealed Soos.

Matthew wanted to punch himself. Although he had saved a life, he realised only now that he could've gotten hurt, or worse. He had risked his own safety just so he could get some recognition by the people in the town. It was bad enough that he had jumped in without a second thought, but now, having Soos feel betrayed, made the entire realisation hit even harder.

"I'm... I'm sorry, Soos. I just wanted to feel... accepted. I did it because that little kid got to me. I don't know why I let him, but... I'm sorry."

Soos sighed.

"Look, dood, the good thing is that we're okay. Just, please, don't do that type of stuff again. I don't want something bad to happen to ya."

"I… I'll try."

The rest of the walk to the shack was mostly silent, except for some banter thrown around regarding their experiences today. Matthew didn't want to openly admit it, but he was more than satisfied from his time hanging out with Soos, even if one of their activities had almost cost them their lives. The forest beside the path was, like the first time they went through it, peaceful, but only now did the sound of crickets dominate over the non-existent chirping of the day birds and were the signs pointing sharply to the shack noticeable and useful. Despite these differences, Matthew still felt more at ease by taking in the quiet atmosphere, for it was one where he could be alone with his thoughts. Yet still, even here, the guilt he felt from all of his actions - whether they were past, present or future - weighed on his conscience. The silence, which had been peaceful beforehand, now felt eerie and malignant as the night grew. Matt's thoughts retreaded back to his dream and the odd connection today's events had with what transpired in it - Stan's hand, the fire and many others he had probably not even noticed. Although he wanted more than anything to refute those similarities by brushing them off as odd coincidences, he could not, for he simply didn't know to what extent the dream demon's power went and to what level he could've played behind the scenes of today's events. It was exactly that part that irked him - the fact that he was kept in the dark and left to puzzle upon a horrific encounter with a supernatural entity with seemingly unlimited power. It was, he internally remarked, an experience that would make even the brightest of people go insane. He vowed to himself that he'd never let others think of him as such, though, and he's managed to keep it up somehow by now.

It wasn't long before the shack's outline finally reached both Soos and Matthew's eyes. When both of them got to the front porch of the gift shop, Soos bent his hand and opened the door. Inside was, surprisingly, Stan, who was leaning suspiciously on the vending machine and waiting for them. It was evident that the first thing he took note of was the condition of the duo's clothes as he darted his eyes between them.

"Hey, Mr. Pines! We, um, came back!" announced Soos as he closed the door and turned to face Stan.

"Yeah, I can see that, but what happened to both of ya?"

"We, err, kind of got into a little accident..." answered Matt.

"Accident?" inquired Stan with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, um, I kind of-"

"It was amazing!" interrupted Soos. "We saved this girl from a fire in the Gravity Falls museum!"

Stan paused for a while and just looked at both Soos and Matthew with a face that read both astonishment and utter disbelief.

"It's true, Mr. Pines!" stated Soos.

Matt remained silent, trying to not show a reaction as to Soos's absurd declaration.

"Is it, kid?"

"Well..." he looked at both Stan and Soos. "Yeah, it is..."

Stan paused yet again. Matthew saw the manner in which his eyes moved - he was most likely trying to visualise how Matt had even managed to accomplish such a daunting act of heroism.

"Huh..." Stan said with pursed lips. "If Soos said it to my face, then it is true. Good job, kiddo."

Matt instantly beamed at that response.

"Yeah, don't get all excited or anythin'. It's late anyway, so you're off to bed after ya clean yourself up," ordered Stan.

Matt only nodded in response and proceeded to head to the stairway up to the bathroom while hearing only slight murmurs from Stan and Soos. Next thing he knew, Soos was leaving the shack and Stan was going into the living room to relax for the evening. He saw no point in trying to dabble in either party's affairs, so he just continued ascending the stairs. He reached the bathroom door yet again. This time, though, showering in the rather cold bathroom proved a lot more soothing and relaxing after the stressful and adventurous day he had. As he finished his shower, he noticed something on the sink - a seemingly new yellow and white toothbrush was leaning on the wall to which the said sink was bolted. He grabbed it and, seeing as he was already trying to keep his hygiene up, used it to brush his teeth, feeling thankful for whoever clearly bought it for him. He finished and walked at a brisk pace from the corridor to where the room and his bed lay whilst dreading the thought of going to sleep. After opening the creaky wooden door, he instantly turned his eyes to the messy bed. He went to it and swiftly got under the rugged covers. He told himself for what felt like the hundredth time today that he wouldn't get hurt, that the wretched demon wasn't as powerful as he thought he was, but he knew that only by going to sleep would the answer be revealed. He didn't want to see what awaited him in the Dreamscape, but he couldn't add sleep deprivation to his list of problems either. For a while, he just lay in bed and watched the dull ceiling with an expressionless face, hoping it would offer him even the slightest of reprieve from the ticking time bomb that was sleeping for him. Eventually, fatigue gave way and he began closing his eyes. He braced himself for what was about to succumb him.

He earnestly hoped that he would wake up.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Hey again, everyone. Sorry for not uploading in the last 2 weeks, but I was really busy with personal stuff (5 exams in one week :c) and I had to put off "AUA" for a little while. Interestingly enough, I planned this chapter to be a lot longer, but I decided against it in the end after seeing the length at which it was and my burning desire to deliver a good product to you guys. Anyway, next chapter might come out at 2 weeks maximum and will be a bit shorter in order to establish the new stuff and after that we begin with longer ones (this chapter's length + 1000/500 words; I'll try not to do 7k long ones lol.) Anyway, enjoy and thanks for the views and favs/follows!**

 **Disclaimer: I own nooooothing.**

 **Chapter IV - The Call**

It was a productive day for the Mystery Shack, Stanley thought while making his way to the living room. Dusk had hit and his employees were already off for the day. He stopped himself at the vending machine after noticing it was a bit off. He adjusted its position accordingly so that it would be as inconspicuous as possible. Looking around himself and seeing the emptiness of the gift shop, he began to reminisce about today's experiences - the way he had managed to cooperate with Matthew, as well as Soos and, surprisingly, Wendy, made it so he'd get through tourist after tourist while still keeping up his effectiveness at snagging away more money, whilst of course maintaining lightning speed. Sadly, the work day didn't begin as well, with Matt waking up with a bad attitude for some reason unknown to him, which made working with him set off to a rocky start, not to mention his wound still hurting an annoyingly tiny bit. Nevertheless, Stanley negated the former issue by surprising Matthew in the morning with some new clothes he had bought for him the other day - he somehow managed to get his outfit correctly, although he had to search through most, if not all of the clothing shops in the mall. After delivering them and his wound coincidentally healing fully by the time the work day began, Stanley bore a positive vibe, which, although unlike his character, wasn't ruined nor stopped throughout the entire time. He attained the same pleasurable feeling from counting the large sum of money he had busted his butt off to earn as well. Before he got to relax fully, though, he knew he had to send Matthew to bed and to work in the lab after his eventual break. That didn't stop him from taking a short break nonetheless, as he finally positioned himself on the armchair he had grown to love all these years. After a good while of idly sitting by and trailing his mind process somewhere nonsensical, he swept back into reality and got up from his chair with a painful groan. As he was about to cross into the territory of the corridor, he suddenly heard the phone ring in the living room. Retreating back to his armchair, he picked it up.

"Err, hello? Who's this?"

"Oh Stanford, hello!" said a slightly distorted womanly voice.

Stan held his breath. He precisely knew that voice and to whom it belonged to. Hearing it again brought him mixed feelings, for it was the voice of his niece-in-law - Carol. He stood there, silent and bedazzled, but intrigued as well. Carol quickly caught up to his act.

"Stan?" asked Carol. "Are you there?"

"Ah," responded Stan, as if though he just grabbed the phone. "Yeah, yeah, I'm here. So, er, what's up?"

"Oh, nothing much! Dan's doing alright, school's out for the kids and we're all good."

Stan slightly smiled at this, happy that there was still some real link to the Pines family left that was seemingly content with their lives.

"Good 'ta hear it. Anyway, you know me and I know you. I can tell ya didn't just call to tell me how great it is back in Piedmont."

"Well…" she began. "I did tell you that the kids are off school. And we really hate that they spend it all cooped up inside with their video games..."

Stan quietly sighed.

"Yeah, yeah, I get where you're goin' at. But, I'm sorry Carol, I think I gotta say no."

"Wait," ushered Carol with a slightly raised voice. "I know you aren't a children person, but trust me, Dipper and Mabel are good kids. You'll feel like they aren't even there! And…"

"And what?"

Carol remained eerily silent. After a while of enduring the said silence, Stan proceeded to actively check if the connection was still there - whether it was by calling for Carol herself or by checking his own phone. Suddenly, he heard a sharp grumbling noise pierce his ear, causing it to feel quite the moderate amount of pain. Nonetheless, he discerned that the noise had surely been Carol picking up the phone again.

"Carol? Ya there?"

"Yes," she sighed. "Yes, I'm here. I'm sorry I hung up for a bit, but I… had to deal with something."

Her unwillingness to name the problem she had piqued Stan's interest. It also made him feel as if though something was amiss with Carol and her household.

"Somethin' what?"

Carol sighed deeply again.

"Look, Stan, I'll be honest with you. We… aren't as well-off as I told you," she said with a hint of apprehension and sadness in her voice. "I just said that because the kids were there, but… our marriage… it..."

Stan sighed, now noticing her beginning to break her otherwise altruistic demeanor.

"And you're tellin' me the only way I can help you is by taking the kids in?"

Carol paused yet again.

"...Yes."

"And why's that?"

"We're going to be heading off to marriage counselling. I… just don't want to trouble the kids with it… and so we thought of you."

Stanley stopped himself before responding. He now finally took some time to assess the problem and think about it. What would it take to take care of three kids? He wasn't sure if he was up to the task or not, but considering that he strongly felt as if though he was holding their fates in his very palm, he knew he had to make a decision.

"Look, Carol…" began Stan. "I'm gonna think 'bout it for a bit. I'll call ya again after I… fix up the rest of the place."

"Yes, of course, Stan. I'm going to tell Dan that I called you, okay?"

"Sure, sure. Talk to ya soon."

He put the phone down. The click of the handset on the receiver put his soul at momentary ease, for he had made himself some time to think about his next move. Although he was rather indifferent to the situation regarding Carol and her husband, he couldn't help but wonder about the ones who would really suffer if he let complacency and indecisiveness take him over - the kids. He hadn't seen nor heard much from them, but one aspect about it struck him like lightning ever since he took his first leave of absence from work and travelled all the way to Piedmont itself to witness their birth: the fact that they were twins. It was something Stanley had always kept in mind and it was something that resonated with him much too strongly. Shaking that thought off and breathing one final sigh, as well as running his coarse hand over his glasses and face, he began trotting to the kitchen. All of the sound in the entire living room was limited to the muffled steps of Stan's slippers and humming of one of the lamps nearby. He was used to having the TV blur out some needless noise in order to distract himself, but the conversation he had with Carol and his intuition ignored that need and hence the entire room was eerily reticent. It was more uncomfortable that way, he thought, for with nothing to listen to or even watch, he was always left with his thoughts - and he never liked that feeling. From his unpleasantness, he found himself entering the vicinity of the kitchen with lightning speed and after turning the lights on through a flick of one of the switches, he began scanning the area. He established, in a matter of a few seconds no less, that Matt was not present in the room, which, although irking him at first, made him feel all the more curious as to his whereabouts. He knew so many places where one person could hide for ages in his brother's house - that is, without food or water and he was aware Matthew had neither. After deciding that there would be no point in looking for him, as he knew that he would turn up eventually and that he was surely in the area of the house, he went to the fridge to pick out some form of a snack. He decided on an ordinary Pitt Cola that was stationed on one of the lower rafts of the refrigerator. Proceeding to hastily pick it up, he heard some odd commotion behind him. Instantly, he turned around, nearly dropping the can bearing the cold beverage. Of course, it was none other than Matthew staring at him from behind.

"Yeesh, kid, I thought we settled on the scares," said Stan as he mentioned the first time he had frightened him only two days ago.

"Yeah… sorry about that," responded Matthew, emerging from the shadows and proceeding to rub the back of his head whilst bearing a giddy smile.

Stan found his attitude more than amusing and it garnered a smile in return, but his expression turned rather cold soon after as he remembered about the predicament he had to think about and deal with. Matt, on the other hand, remained indifferent - on the outside at least. He sat down on one of the chairs and so did Stan. They were faced with one another. Stanley sat quietly, lost in thought. He knew he had to call Carol as soon as possible, and he was aware that he could only do so after he was done with Matt, as he had originally intended before receiving Carol's request, and has made up his mind.

"Ya hungry, kid?"

"No… not really," replied Matt with an apathetic tone.

Stan raised an eyebrow.

"Either you ain't a picky eater or you're lyin' to me. And I think you haven't eaten since, what, morning?"

Matthew let out a slightly frustrated sigh.

"Look, I'm just not hungry, Mr. Pines... "

Stan was about to interject when he saw him gesturing to speak once more.

"I… I took a snack from the vending machine," he told him as he looked him in the eye. "I saw some tourist doing a trick with it and getting something, so… I wanted to try it for myself. To see what would happen."

Stanley admired his honesty, even if he had to get it out and even if it was for something as simple as a snack. He let out a small chuckle.

"Kid…" he began as he smiled at him. "I'm glad ya did somethin' like that on your own. Even if I was mad, I'd still be happy that ya actually took a risk. Not 'ta mention that this was all for some lousy snack."

Matthew felt at ease from his response, seeing as Stan's disciplinary methods weren't at all similar to the ones he had hitherto been used to from the various nutjobs he has had the misfortune of bearing with. As a matter of fact, he thought, Stan's ways seemed quite unorthodox and he further solidified his belief by noting a couple of glaring examples from the two-day experience he had living with him. He was definitely something different, and that spiked his intrigue by a huge amount.

"Say, Mr. Pines…" began Matt with an inquiring tone in his voice. "You, um, run a tourist trap sort of thingie, right?"

"Yeah. Where're ya getting at? And you can just call me Stan, kiddo."

"Well, I've seen the way you act with your customers… not that I have anything against it…" he told Stan with a hasty and defensive tone. "It's even a bit funny seeing them get tricked, but..."

"But what?" asked Stan as he took a sip from his cold can. Although he wasn't particularly in the mood to be seemingly interrogated, he knew he had to listen to his concerns - he was sure his life up until a few days ago was a living nightmare and he wanted to not let him continue going through the same experience as he himself once had, especially considering his age.

"They're just nobodies to you, right?" he asked yet again and Stan gave only a slight nod in reply.

Matt paused. He darted his eyes around, hesitant to say whatever he had in mind. He finally sighed and looked Stan in the eyes.

"Then… why did you take me in?"

Stan took a slow sip from his Pitt Cola. He slowly put it down on the table after refreshing himself yet again.

"Kid… have ya already forgotten what I told you when we-"

"I know what you told me," interrupted Matt. "It's just that… why did you do it then? That night? I… just…"

With a heavy sigh, Stan got up from his chair with his now empty can in hand. He walked to one of the nearby rubbish bins and disposed of it. He faced the mosaic glass window with hands behind his back and seemed to be contemplating something. Matt was now worried if he had done something to incur Stan's wrath.

"Matt… ya wanna know the truth?" he asked Matt as he turned to face him with a stern look.

"Yes…" he replied after slightly hesitating.

Stanley looked down at the poor wooden floor. He had made this correlation ever since he first saw him, but he never wanted to admit it to him.

"I… how do I say this..." he began. "That night when I first met ya, just by lookin' at you I saw a lot of myself in you. I'd be a bad businessman if I couldn't read faces and make up backstories from 'em. So I guess I went a bit soft on ya kid, heh. Just don't expect that when we're workin'."

Just as Stan had described in his little explanation, he instinctively read his face yet again. It emanated nothing short of pure awe and bewilderment. After realising he was surely weirding Stan out with his contemplative twitchings, he forced himself back into the dialogue.

"I… I don't know what to say. I'm sorry I had to make you say that, Stan… and also thank you."

"Eh, don't mention it, kiddo," he told Matt as he went to him and patted him on the shoulder. "Anyway, it's gotten pretty late, so you'd better start haulin' your butt up to your bed."

Matthew instinctively flinched at the mention of going to bed. He even started slightly fumbling and a part of Stan had wanted to ask what had been wrong, but he stood by his statement that it was quite late and knew that time was beginning to run short, unwilling to stall.

"Come on, kid, it ain't gonna bite," he assured. "So, yeah, shower or whatever before you go, but I'm gonna check on ya later, aight?"

Matt let out a painful sigh.

"Fine…" he murmured as he began going up the flight of stairs leading to the second floor.

After making sure that Matthew was truly gone and not attempting to spy on him from upstairs, he sat down yet again, but this time on the chair Matt had previously been on. Unease filled him as he twiddled his thumbs and darted his eyes to the clock - 9:49 PM. Midnight was not that far off and Carol was surely still waiting for his answer. He didn't even know why he felt so apprehensive - money definitely wasn't an issue, nor was his ability to act as a de-facto guardian for three seemingly temperate children, with two of them being his family. He looked at the clock again - 9:53 PM. Being alone with his thoughts - a practice he yet again thought how much he had grown to loathe - made time flow seamlessly. It was now or never, yes or no, help or don't help, save or don't save.

Stanley barely composed himself. He got up and turned on the nearly busted radio nearby. With a clear mind, he reasoned and debated with himself, only to finally make a choice - it was the one he knew he would have to make in the end.

After a few minutes, the telephone rang. There wasn't a doubt in his mind as to the identity of the caller. Stan walked over to the device that rested upon the end table left to the armchair and picked up the handset, just as he had done less than an hour ago with a clearer and calmer conscience - that association alone made him internally laugh, for only now did he realise how much a single phone call changed his evening plans. Hearing noise and ensuring that the connection was active, he readied himself to speak.

"Stan!" greeted Carol, as if she had a headstart on him. "I'm so glad you answered! I wanted to ask if you, um, you know...?"

"Yeah, I have decided," he told her and breathed a deep sigh. "I'll take 'em."

"Thank you so much, Stan! I'll tell them immediately! By tomorrow, right? We did some research and found that they'll get there by afternoon."

Yet another sigh escaped Stan's mouth.

"Yeah, sure."

"Great! And again, thanks a million! I'm so sorry we had to do this, but Dan said you were the best person to ask. Anyway, have a good night, Stan!"

"Yeah, you too."

It was done. Now all that was left was telling Matt and the rest of his employees about the arrival of the, unbeknownst to them, second generation of Pines twins, as well as the cleaning of the attic room and its consequential suiting for accommodation. He knew that tomorrow he'd have to put the finishing touches for their living quarters, which only meant that he'd have to clean out the room now instead of working in the lab for the night. Without a moment's hesitation, he went up the stairs and soon found himself in the perimeter of the second floor. He wandered off to the left where the attic room lay. His gaze diverted to the many doors beset on the right wall and highlighted that, even after thirty long and painful years of living here, he still mistook the purpose some rooms and was sure that there were some built-in that he wasn't even aware of. That was the consequence of living in someone's house and stealing his identity, he thought grimly. Now that he thought about his brother, only now did he realise that by taking two more kids he would have even less time on his hands to work on rescuing him - that is, unless some miracle blessed him, but his progress had been stagnant for thirty years anyway, so what difference would it or the addition of two preteens from his family make? He had grown to like Matthew as well, sure, but it wasn't as if though he could help him - no one could, not even his family, and only bringing in more mouths to feed would only slow his work down.

He stopped walking.

How could he even think something like that, he rhetorically asked. It's… it's what Ford would say if he were here. He wasn't his brother, he wasn't a person that cared more about pointless scientific work more than his family despite having to do so for thirty years in a vain attempt to try and save him with one of the journals and despite being called "Stanford" rather than "Stanley" for a gruelling half of his life.

He was Stanley.

But only he knew it. And he had to keep it that way.

He finally reached the door to the attic room. It was at the edge of the house itself and not far off from his own bedroom and the second bathroom. He extended his hand to the shaky wooden knob and began trying to pry it open. He eventually did manage to, but the door itself flung open out the effort he had put into barging in and he fell with his shoulder blade onto the dusty wooden floor. He got up and began patting and fixing himself up. Whilst doing so, he realised that in his hand he held the small, wooden knob. A grumble of frustration exited his lips as he looked at the state of the now knobless door and, as a matter of fact, the entire still-dark attic. He didn't know how or why he felt as if though an unpleasant aura had permeated the atmosphere - maybe it was his underlying fear of this room and the fact that it had always seemed rather peculiar for his taste. That, or a newly-developed fear of darkness, he jokingly thought. Leaving his thoughts and setting aside the door part, he began navigating through the darkness to find the light switch. After a fairly extensive search on the walls of the vacant room, he finally yielded a result and, after making sure that the switch he had found was indeed one for the lights, flicked it.

The entire room lit up out of the two functioning light bulbs that were mounted on the nearby support beams.

It wasn't that bad, Stanley thought, but there was surely work that had needed to be done. There were already two beds which were set amidst the corners at the end of the attic, yet there were still a couple of boxes filled with junk strewn around all over the floors and furniture - junk that comprised mostly out of Ford's outlandish experiments and other, more random stuff his brother had decided to store. Between the two parallel beds was a small, well-built wooden desk and near the edge of the right bed sat a small end table with a vase-shaped lamp on top. The glass triangle window that stood above Stanley and near the ceiling ushered in unnecessary and barely noticeable moonlight in the attic. Stanley continued examining the room, but his attention diverted to one of the boxes that held the so-called "junk" he had previously labelled as Ford's. From the information he had garnered in the now thirty years he had spent rigorously reading Stanford's journal, he quickly discerned that some of the things littered around in the many boxes weren't at all his brother's - among the things he dug through were a banjo and a pair of old leather sandals. There were also notes with illegible writing, as well as an entire computer in one of the others. It was strange, because as much as he had been away from Stanford, he knew that he would never buy nor use these items. That revelation made him wonder if his brother had ever written anything about someone else in his journal. He shrugged it off and decided that it'd be best if he started work on the hauling process and leave the speculations for later. The only problem that lingered on, though, was where exactly Stanley would have to haul them so they could be as inconspicuous as possible.

He looked around himself and the attic. Only after setting his sights upon a blue curtain did he remember how big the room really was, for the space behind that said blue curtain, he recalled, was enough to house double the amount of the four boxes he had to move currently.

"Perfect…" he muttered under his breath whilst bearing a mischievous grin and rubbing his hands together as if he had just struck the best deal of his life. "This will do fine…"

He'd be done with everything - the knob, the boxes and the entire room - in an hour or less, he thought with a smile on his wrinkled and tired face.

 **P.S. Special, and I mean really special thanks to Villicus (link -** **u/6923112/) for proofreading this chapters and supporting the fic! He's a great dude and you should check out his awesome stories!**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: *taps microphone.* Hey everyone, it's me again. Sorry for not uploading (and writing) more in the past three months which I had promised myself that my story would _totally_ kick off and that I would deliver a lot more for all of y'all. Nevertheless, I managed to write this chapter after drowning in a pool of demotivation, fear and self-loathing for about two months, and then barely managing to swim ashore and finish writing the chapter with newfound motivation. Now, I actually have laid out a roadmap of-sorts for my future endeavours, so the entire story won't be in my head anymore (hooray!)**

 **Anyway, for those who have stuck around (and for the new faces that will probably see this story out of this update,) thank you for giving me a reason to continue this story. Now, without further ado, please enjoy Chapter Five of "An Unexpected Arrival."**

 **UPDATE: It came upon me that, after publishing this installment, my stupidity and ineptitude of 's mechanics has caused Chapter II of the story to be identical to Chapter III. I have now rectified the issue and the story is, once more, whole. I apologise if anyone has read the story without the said chapter and I urge them to go back and read the real Chapter II.**

 **Chapter V - The New Acquaintances**

Matthew's recently developed abhorrent relationship with one of the basic human needs - sleep - had caused him more than his fair share of disruptions and, if he were to be honest with himself, made it hard to get through the monotone work days themselves. He barely managed to hide his tiredness from the prying eyes of Stan, for he knew that whatever the demon wanted from him had something major to do with Stan and he couldn't risk him finding out. But what it was, he hadn't a clue. He wondered why his mind kept going back and forth in a futile effort to solve this enigma. It was rather funny, now that he thought about it - his continuous pondering upon the many subliminal messages the demon had carefully put in dream after dream since he first met it. They did not offer even the slightest of answers. It wasn't as if the other journeys he had made to the Dreamscape through the volition of Bill Cipher were any different than the first time he had gone there - the only difference surely being the increase in surreal and convoluted imagery, as well as the aforementioned addition of cryptic messages. So why? Why was he still as frantic and horrified as he had ever been?

He ran his hand through his hair, sighing and laying his head on the oh-so-comfortable pillow once more. His annoyance grew tenfold while his thoughts continued straying in an effortless endeavour to answer his question. It was hard for him to stay awake and he knew that soon he'd be back in the other dimension. How long could he keep this up, his tired mind wondered, before he eventually succumbed to the inviting lull of insanity itself?

Another week?

He rested his head.

Another day?

He relaxed.

Another hour...?

He sighed.

Any… minute… now…?

He closed his tear-laced and weary eyes.

 _And he did not realise it - how the darkness came again. He sensed the stinging familiarity he had felt ever since his first initiation into the world of dreams. Soon from the darkness would come the terrors that he dreaded. It was futile to resist, for he had already given up when he had decided to doze off. His lucidity didn't help the fact either, but it still made him want to escape somehow, to be free of the demon's grasp. He always somehow managed to look on the alluring optimistic side of all seemingly horrible scenarios - he didn't know why - but even he had his limits, and when they were broken, his mind entered a constant state of nihilistic suppression. It had happened a handful of times during his foster care days and, despite earnestly thinking that now he was finally ready to try and put his past behind him, now he couldn't help but feel as if though his pain would never end. It just seemed like every salvation - every light at the end of every dark and dreadful tunnel - was nothing more but a mere illusion of reprieve he had created for himself._

 _He was a fool, after all. To think that someone would actually care for him._

 _He was a nobody._

 _But everybody knew it._

 _And he could not change it._

 _He ran these thoughts through his head as he lifelessly hung in the void. Although the entire concept of time in the Dreamscape was foreign to him, and if he were to be frank with himself, he wasn't sure if such a force even existed, he still had the hunch that by now he was supposed to already have been at least somewhere. It was wrong, he thought - either the demon was playing with him or something was really out of place._

 _He felt something just then - not the pull out of the darkness and into the grasp of Cipher, but rather a sense of… warmth. He wanted to turn around and view the source of the said warmth, yet he could not. Its presence, contrary to the enigmatic and mystical feel of the others he had been subject to, was serene. Slowly, it engulfed him, but it did not change its demeanor whilst doing so - it did not suddenly burn with a fiery temper, nor did it dissipate like water poured over a fire. It was just there - existing only to seemingly pleasure him._

 _He did not care._

 _He just embraced it with a comfort he hadn't felt in his sleep for years._

 _Maybe the nightmares were over, he thought, or maybe this was just a fluke._

 _Either way, he enjoyed a dreamless night._

"Hey," said a rather hoarse voice as Matthew felt a touch upon his body.

"Hey, kid! Wake up!"

Flustering his eyes open, Matthew's view was immediately centred on the clearly annoyed face of Stan. Rubbing his head and eyes, he squinted the latter, trying to get a better look of the scenery that surrounded him as to assure his conscience that he was not, indeed, dreaming yet again. Only after having diverted his glance to Stan did he see his expression of utter confusion as to Matthew's thorough observing.

"Oh!" jumped Matt. "I'm sorry, Mr. Pines! Did I, um, oversleep...?"

Stan raised an eyebrow. Whilst doing so, Matthew noticed the presence of eye bags under his dreary eyes. It made him wonder - was he too suffering from sleep deprivation? If so, maybe he could empathise with his struggle?

"Yeah, you kinda did, kid. It's…" he paused. "Around half past 'leven."

Matthew frowned heavily at this and quickly got up from his bed, ready to begin the day as productively as one possibly could, so as to reprimand for his current blunder. Stan noticed his enthusiasm and let out a sigh.

"Look, Matt, you fix up and meet me for breakfast in 'bout fifteen minutes. I got something to tell ya. Capisce?"

Matthew only nodded, having been slightly unsettled, yet also intrigued by the fact that Stan wanted to share something with him at breakfast specifically. Seeing as there was no point in lingering in Matthew's presence, Stan made for a hasty exit through the door leading to the corridor.

"Well, that was awkward…" muttered Matt under his nose.

It wasn't long before Matt was done with the cleaning of his room entirely. Since he did not change his clothes at all, the only thing he really needed to do was fix up his bed and go the extra mile to clean up some taboo spots in the room. After finishing, he took a hearty look at his living space. It wasn't so bad, he thought - like most of the rooms in the shack, the ceiling had a handful of support beams that held the roof together. Compared to the various other spacious areas in the shack, this one did not differ much, apart from the odd presence of a hexagonal window on the ceiling that stood out as an odd design choice. His small bed, now tidy, sat in the upper left corner of the room, and next to it was a miniature end table with a vase-shaped porcelain lamp placed on top that made for a comfy cabin-like aesthetic. Aside from that, on the walls were strewn a couple of decorative art pieces that had a recurring theme of surreal imagery. He had also found various incoherent scientific notes and manuscripts under his bed and behind the dusty frames of the paintings themselves. Overall, the room had piqued his morbid curiosity from the moment he first set foot in it during that fateful evening, but due to the circumstances he had to deal with, he could not warrant himself an investigation. Mindless thoughts aside, after having eased his mind, he exited the room, now eagerly awaiting the news Stan had for him.

"Heya," greeted Stan as Matt entered the kitchen. "Take a seat. I'll be right with ya."

He did as ordered. For a while, he sat idly by as Stan searched high and low for something, or really anything, in the fridge. After he finished his fruitless excursion, he muttered something to Matthew and took off, leaving the boy in a state of confusion. Soon, Stan returned with two bars of chocolate in hand and threw one to Matt.

"Ah," began Matt as he cracked a smile. "Granola bars again, Mr. Pines?"

"Yeah, yeah," dismissed Stan whilst eating his own serving. "I couldn't find anythin' in the fridge, so I went to the vending machine. Surprisingly, my old tactic of shakin' it 'till it gave me somethin' worked."

Both shared a chuckle at Stan's explanation. Soon thereafter, Stan's expression changed into a cold and serious one.

"Anyway, about what I was gonna tell ya..." he began as he crossed his burly arms. "My great-niece and nephew are comin' here for the Summer. They'll be stayin' up in the attic, next to ya, and are gonna work here in the shack. They should come somewhere 'round the afternoon and I'm gonna go pick them up from the bus stop nearby. I need you to run the place for a little before I get back. You got that?"

Matt hesitated, feeling a bit overwhelmed from the influx of information and rather shocked that someone would willingly come to live with Stan.

"Um… I think?" he replied.

Stan breathed heavily and ran his hand through his face.

"Alright, never mind, just keep this joint busy when I'm gone. For now, get your stuff from the broom closet and meet me in the gift shop."

Matthew responded with a determined nod as he gulped away his apprehension regarding the information Stan had told him. Soon, armed with a broom from the unrealistically small closet upstairs, he found himself in the shop, ready for work. As he was entering, he caught a glance of the staff of the Mystery Shack, as well as a small amount of tourists waiting outside.

"Hey dood, great to see ya!" beamed Soos upon seeing him.

Matt smiled back in response. Wendy also noticed his presence and acknowledged it by giving him a passive tilt of her head as a sign. Matthew wasn't bothered nor really surprised by this, for he had garnered from the short time he had spent with Wendy that this was simply the way she behaved - in a typical, dismissive teenager fashion.

"Alright, form up 'ere," began Stan as the trio of workers haphazardly lined up. "As usual, we got a jackload 'a tourists waiting outside. Now, after we scam these suckers I'm gonna need to step out for a bit and take care of some business. Wendy, Soos, I'm gonna need one of you to handle the tours while I'm gone."

At that order, Soos's expression quickly changed into one of clear delight, whilst Wendy remained as apathetic as ever, at most slightly annoyed if she were chosen to replace Stan. Matthew, on the other hand, felt rather disgruntled at the fact that he wasn't even mentioned as a candidate, yet ultimately he decided it'd be best had he kept his tongue behind his teeth.

"Yes, sir, Mr. Pines, sir!" ecstatically replied Soos.

"Good," affirmed Stan as he walked to the door and pointed at the crew of the shack. "Now get 'ta work!"

Immediately upon that, the door bustled open and Matthew saw, as he had the days before, how Stan's every trick of the trade was executed in an endeavour to scam as much money as possible from the naive tourists. For better or worse, he was beginning to pick up on most of it and even managed to pull off one on a distracted customer and earn some money of his own. He stopped himself for a moment and leant against the nearby wall for a tiny break from work. He wondered if this was what his life was going to be from now on - it was certainly odd and more thrilling than he'd like, but it was far better than what he had been used to with 'normal' families in other, more urban places. Nevertheless, when he was working, he kept to himself nearly all of the time, only occasionally exchanging banter with Soos and never voicing his own opinion about the many going-ons in the shack except when asked. He was extremely careful not to cause an accident that might slow down business or drive unneeded attention to him, as he had done only days beforehand, hence warranting his apprehension.

As the minutes went by and he felt the ever-increasing tumult of the tourists in the museum rise, he grew more and more worried, for he knew the hour in which Stan would depart would dawn soon. He was convinced that he would ruin Stan's great-niece and great-nephew's first impression of him and, truth be told, he had actually come to terms with that, but the fact that he'd have to face more and more challenges just to even live in the shack - whether it be simply providing free labour to Stan or having yet another group he'd be forced to bear with - worried and unnerved him. Maybe that was the price he had to pay; maybe he was never meant to have a real family and was just facing insurmountable obstacle after insurmountable obstacle, only doomed to reach a breaking point in time. As he was cleaning one of the lower-height shelves, he began to realise that there really was no point debating himself, for his mind had already been plagued by the nightmarish thoughts he had continued reprising even until now. It didn't matter if it was with his outing with Soos, in the middle of the night or the first time he had met Stan - even after being reassured, comforted and, dare he think, even accepted by some, his mind was still hardwired to unyielding pessimism. He let out a painful sigh at that staggering realisation, and it was only amplified by his built-up nervousness. Unfortunately for him, it did not go unnoticed.

"Yo, you okay, man?" asked Wendy, seemingly out of the blue.

Matt was taken by surprise at Wendy's inquisitive nature. He fumbled around for a second before giving her an answer.

"Oh… um, yeah," he responded. "Just… sick of this work, heh."

Wendy immediately raised an eyebrow at that, which only served to frighten Matt.

"Come on, man, even I don't get that depressed at work." she chuckled.

"Well, I don't know…" he told her as he tried to quickly assemble an excuse for his apparently saddening aura. "I guess it's just the weird stuff that makes Gravity Falls stranger than… the other places I've been to."

"Yeah, you can say that again. You wouldn't believe some of the stuff I've seen coming to work."

Matt was intrigued, yet he had a hunch that whatever she had seen was nothing compared to his experiences.

"Well, what have you seen?" he asked.

"Man, where do I begin…"

And so, for a little while, Matt reaped the joys of having a discussion that differed from someone barking orders at him or inquiring about his life and took his mind off of his troubles. Although Wendy's experiences were odd - encompassing a rather wide list of weird natural phenomena and some, more direct encounters with the paranormal - none had been as severe as his encounter in the woods, yet he still found them entertaining to listen to. Soon enough, the tourists swarmed the gift shop and, despite Stan's best efforts, were done with their shopping rather quickly. Just as the last of the tourists exited at Stan's behest, so did he as well. Matt took a glance out of one of the nearby windows, only to see Stan's car exit amidst the crowd of buses. He also noticed the lack of incoming tourists, which only served to indicate that they'd probably be alone whilst Stan was gone.

"Hey, Soos, do you, um... know where Stan is going?" inquired Matt as to understand if Stan had mentioned anything beforehand about his plans to his employees.

"Uh…" thought Soos. "No, dood, not really. Do you know?"

Matt hesitated for a bit, unsure if he ought to tell Soos of Stan's ordeals. He decided that there was no harm to be done if he let Soos know, since Stan would unveil his surprise soon anyway.

"Well, he said some family of his is coming is coming to live here for the Summer. I don't know much else myself..."

"Woah, Mr. Pines has family? Wait… you mean people, right?" intrusively asked Soos.

"Er... yeah?"

"Oh, okay… good," he finished with a suspicious look in his eyes.

"Why are you surprised that he has family?" asked Matt, keen on learning why Soos reacted in such a manner.

"Well, I dunno, dood. Maybe it's because Stan never mentioned anything about family before."

Matt also had to agree. From the time he had spent in the Mystery Shack and Stan, he also didn't recall him really talking about family of any sort.

"Okay, the-"

Just as he was about to ask Soos something else, he noticed Stan's car returning from the nearby window which he had also seen it departing. He was certain that he had brought his niece and nephew with him, as he could clearly see two heads poking out in the distance.

"Hey, what'cha looking at, dude?" inquired Wendy.

"Stan's here."

"Woah. Already? Well, so much for the peace'n quiet."

Just then, the door hustled open, and revealed an entering Stan, with two figures of much smaller stature following suit. All three of employees' eyes darted towards them, with Soos and Matt glazing with curious glances and only leaving one - Wendy - to wonder what was transpiring.

Matt also took a good look at them. As Stan had previously mentioned, one of them as a boy, and the other - a girl. Although both had begun to take glances around the gift shop, the girl's expressions made it seem that she was considerably more awed by the attractions than her brother, who, on the other hand, seemed a bit timid in Matt's eyes. He also took note of their odd clothing choices - the boy wore a dark blue vest with an orange shirt underneath, a worn-out cap that had a star embroidered on his head, and grey shorts, whilst the girl donned a seemingly handmade purple sweater and a skirt of the same colour. Both carried a handful of luggage, making them more akin to pack mules than vacationers.

"Alright, alright, settle down everyone," said Stan as he quickly went to reassess the situation for his employees. "Wendy, Soos, Matt, meet Marbles and Dooper, my niece and nephew."

"Ahem…" grumbled the boy.

"It's actually Dipper and Mabel!" piped up the girl's braces-induced hissing voice to Stan.

"Eh? Yeah, same thing," dismissed Stan. "Anyway, I officially welcome ya 'ta the gift shop, Dripper and Mwabel!"

"It's…" began Dipper, but then hesitated and withdrew his correction. "Nevermind…"

"How's it hangin', squirts?" suddenly asked Wendy, grabbing the twins at surprise.

Dipper simply stood in one spot, staring awkwardly at Wendy with mouth agape. Clearly, his sister noticed this and decided to take the directive.

"Hi! My name's Mabel, but you already knew that!" she announced to Wendy and the rest of the crew again with an awkward laugh.

"I'm Wendy," she responded. "These two dorks are Soos and Matt."

They, having been mentioned and designated by Wendy, both threw a wave and a slight smile at Mabel.

"Ugh, cut the chatter already and go settle your butts up into the attic," interjected Stan. "I'll show ya to it."

Just as Stan finished, he began hustling Dipper to the direction of the stairway, while gesturing for Mabel to come along. Mabel, having been charmed by the small conversation she had with Wendy, waved a serene goodbye, and the three of them departed to the upper floor of the shack, leaving the workers alone once again.

"That was… interesting," noted Matt.

"Yeah, no kiddin', dood. The girl - Mabel - seems alright, though," admitted Soos.

Matt was inclined to agree. He approved of her straightforward and charming attitude - something he had seen only occasionally from benign strangers like Stan and his various foster brothers and sisters while he received their help in an otherwise abusive household.

"Eh. Don't tell this 'ta Stan, but I don't really like these 'niceness' acts. Gives me the creeps," stated Wendy.

"Maybe she's not faking it?" proposed Matt, inciting a curious look from Soos at the opposite of the room and a similar one from Wendy.

"Whatever," Wendy shrugged. "Guess we just gotta wait and see."

Soon thereafter, more tourists came in as the Mystery Shack resumed business for the day. On occasion, one of, if not both of the twins would come down from the attic and explore the shack, as well as take a gander at the exhibits and talk with either Soos or Wendy. Matt, on the other hand, simply remained in a bashful state when in their presence and stuck to doing his work - so much so that the gift shop was nearly spotless in every nook and cranny. This made sure that he would not make a scene or be caught slacking off by Stan. He didn't have anything against them, he thought, but he just needed to adjust for a bit in order to not completely defy their expectations of him. It was either that or something else that he harboured and only used that excuse as to justify his asocial behaviour. Either way, the day went on and closing hours began to near - Wendy and Soos were packing up their sparse belongings and the last of the still-expensive tours were held. Stan expressed his disappointment of the inevitably unproductive day, but was more than glad that he was over with it anyway. As Matt was putting his tools back in the broom closet, he was startled by Stan's shouting from the kitchen.

"KIDS!" he yelled. "GET DOWN HERE!"

Trotting to the kitchen, he peered through the door frame to reveal Stan leaning idly on one of the counters.

"What's happened?" asked Matt, now in full view of Stan.

Just as Stan was about to answer, both of them heard footsteps from the stairway and soon enough, Mabel came in sight.

"What's the situation, great-uncle Stan-io?" she inquired as she scanned the room for anything out of the ordinary, only to notice Matthew standing next to her. "Oh, hi again!"

Matt returned a slight smile and a nod as Dipper came into the room with his vest lacking in his attire and no shoes present, either. He saw Mabel's close proximity to Matt and slightly pulled her away from him, much to his surprise and to Mabel's obvious annoyance.

"Well," began Stan. "Since your parents want you to 'ta stay healthy and whatnot, we're gonna have to have dinner."

"Have to?" piped up Dipper. "Don't you, um… usually do that?"

"Oh, he does it all of the time," interjected Matt, rolling his eyes. "Don't you, Mr. Pines?"

Stan's already annoyed expression coalesced into one of barely-quenched rage. He steadied his nerves, as it wasn't fitting of his character to lash out at children.

"Look, are y'all hungry or not?"

"We're alright, uncle Stan," said Dipper.

"Yeah!" beamed Mabel. "Mom gave us packed lunches for the trip!"

Matt slightly frowned at that statement. It seemed like such a mundane thing to them, but to have something made and then given for you - whether it be food, a roof under your head, or even something as abstract and easy to hand out as love - was a luxury Matt had only gotten to know now and at rare occasions in his life.

"Okay. Matt, what 'bout you?"

All eyes turned to Matt, with both parties awaiting his response.

"Oh, I… could go something. Small, though."

Stan nodded.

"Alright, ya two can go up to bed and fix up."

Upon hearing that, Mabel, seeing as her brother was about to protest, grabbed his hand and they both went upstairs once more.

"So, whaddya want?" asked Stan.

"Oh. Well, anything you have. I, um… don't mean to be picky."

Stan let out an exasperated sigh at that comment.

"Well, there's plenty'a stuff in the refrigerator," he began as he went and opened the said appliance. "Ya could make sandwiches or somethin'. It's up to you."

Matt, now glossing over the different rafts in the fridge while Stan stood behind him, breathed a heavy sigh.

"Look, Mr. Pines," said Matt, closing the fridge and facing Stan. "There's no need for you to do every single thing for me. I… I'm not a baby."

"Never said you were. Heck, you're the toughest kid I know and ya work twice as much as Soos and Wendy."

Matt was taken aback by Stan's revelation about his work performance. It was no secret that he stuck to working more than slacking off most of the time, but today even he had to admit that he had gone overboard with his scheme of evading the twins. He came to realise that by ignoring them, he had done the opposite of what he had set out to accomplish. Stan noticed his thoughtful state and decided to break the ice.

"Okay kid, if ya don't need anything else, I'mma be off. If you need me I'll be in my room."

Matt simply nodded in response as he saw Stan exit. After a moment's hesitation, he decided to take Stan up on his offer and make something for himself. He settled on making a simple salad out of some greens and, as he had dearly hoped, not-yet spoiled tomatoes that sat in the kitchen. While he was adding some of the last bits to his creation, he vividly recalled his previous culinary experiences - the times when he'd experiment in the kitchens of some of his interchangeable foster families whilst they were outing, of course leaving him alone. Out of those many tries, he learned how to cook quite the roster of traditional and simple meals quite well and he proved his abilities yet again. He didn't like to admit it, but it was something of a passion of his - one that he did not get to exercise often in a fulfilling manner, though, much to his dismay and especially now on a simple salad.

After a good while of picking at the served salad and tiresomely and slowly eating it, he put the plate in the sink. He tried to convince himself that something was wrong at the fact that he felt nutritioned after that small meal, but deep down he knew that it was because he was conditioned to be as such, so he didn't let it stick to his mind too much. He thought it was about time he had hit the hay as well and proceeded to climb the stairs in a rather drooling manner. When he got to the second floor, he immediately noticed the lack of a reliable light source activated anywhere, making the entirety of it pitch-black and rather frightening. Nevertheless, he gulped his fear away and began navigating the familiar darkness with one of his hands stretched out to the wall in an effort to find a light switch and the other in front of his face as to shield him. As he was trotting, he saw that the door to the upper bathroom had been opened and the light from it emitting through. He noticed the shadow of a figure and he instantly thought it as one of the twins, since Stan's would've been much larger and imposing, but he was unsure as to which one it might be. Either way, he wasn't noticed and began trying to navigate his way across to his room whilst remaining as such. He neared the doorframe and peeked, only to see the girl twin - Mabel - pouring herself water from the sink into a water bottle. It was more than obvious that she too would be heading for the attic as soon as she was done, so Matt realised he had to make haste. Slowly, but surely, he stepped into the arc of the light from the room and began tip-toeing as silently as he could. If tip-toeing was even a skill, he thought, he would've been a world champion just because of how many times he had been forced to do it in his life for various reasons. He had to admit, this was the dumbest one. As his heart was racing and he took step after step, Mabel suddenly saw him out of the corner of her eye and darted her expression to him. Out of panic, she let out a shriek and dropped her water bottle on the ground, causing some water to spill on the floor.

"Wait!" exclaimed Matt. "Wait, it's me!"

He stepped into the bathroom and revealed himself.

"Oh…" Mabel began as she came to the realisation of who had intruded. "It's you! Um… Matt, right?"

"Yes…? And you're… Mabel, right?"

"Yup!" she replied as she picked up her bottle and went close to Matt, extending her hand. "Pleasure to officially meet you, Mr. Matthew!"

Matt snickered at her grandiose and charming official introduction as he proceeded to shake her hand.

"Soo," Mabel said. "Where were ya headed to, Matt?"

"Oh," he replied, having been caught off-guard by her sudden questioning. "Um, to my room."

"Woah, you have a room all to yourself?"

"Yes…" he trailed off, not really looking forward to where the conversation was headed. "My, um, parents and I agreed to stay up here if I worked and they paid Stan. It's… strange, I know."

Mabel raised an eyebrow at that. Matt didn't like to lie, but this was one of the instances where he thought that it'd be better if he did as such instead of telling her directly. He knew he was shooting himself in the foot by doing this, but he couldn't do anything about it now.

"Well, thanks for keeping me company, Matt," she told him with a toothy smile. "But I'll go and see what Dipper's up to."

Mabel paused for a second.

"Hey, wait, you haven't met Dipper yet, have you Matt?"

"Um, I don't think so."

Suddenly, Mabel brimmed with excitement.

"Oooh! I can't wait to meet you two! We could go now!"

"Maybe he's asleep? I, um, don't want to wake him up."

She rolled her eyes.

"Psh, maybe you're right. But that's why I'll officially meet you both tomorrow! You can count on me, Mr. Matthew!"

She gave him a salute as to indicate the importance of her promise, which amused Matt, and brushed past him, giving him one final parting wave and, yet again, a smile.

"Heh, goodnight," he said as she closed the door. "Welcome to Gravity Falls."

He now stood alone in the bathroom. Seeing as today fate was against his wishes, he decided that it'd be best if he stayed put in the room for a bit - not as to attest to any biological needs of his body, but rather to avoid any possible attempts of running into Mabel. He wasn't sure how or when he could possibly see her again, but he felt it wiser that he stay for a minute, just to be safe. If he were to be frank with himself, he was quite thrilled at the surprising turnabout of the conversation he had with Mabel - despite the dubious circumstances she had caught him in, she treated him as if though he was her friend all the way, not willing to question any of his motives due to, what he thought was, her non-intrusive personality. It felt heavily reminiscent of a handful of foster siblings and even some parents that he keenly remembered even to this day for their bouts of kindness in otherwise bleak households. Nevertheless, the whole experience just served as yet another reminder that in the weirdness that wholly engulfed the town of Gravity Falls, people were not exempt from that category either.

Judging that the time he had spent stalling was enough, he shut off the lights and too exited the bathroom, only to be greeted by a now fully-lit corridor. Mabel, he thought. She might've known where they were. Appreciating the fact that he wouldn't have to navigate through the seeming nothingness again, he began walking back to his room. Today was an interesting day, he thought as he observed the odd décor. He begrudgingly embraced the new and reminded himself of the old that he would never be able to let go of. His was a constant inner battle, the tide of which was always changing - some days he felt full with vigour and hope for the morrow, yet in others he lingered in the void that was his past. Sighing it off, he neared the door and instantly his mind changed to the other problem he had been plagued with and hadn't given much thought - Bill. He was glad that the demon had given him some reprieve from his torment, whether intentionally or not, and he had hopes that he had gotten get tired of him and decided to leave him be. It was either that, or it was all apart of his elaborate scheme which, from what he could discern from his various banter, involved Gravity Falls and 'all of those he cared about'.

Maybe, as he had told himself countless times before, he needn't have to deal with everything on his own and today he felt as if though it was a testament to that. He had Stan, Soos, and even Wendy to some extent and, he hoped eventually, the twins on his side, yet he also wasn't sure if even all of them could help him in his strifes.

But he was certain of one thing, at the very least - change was on the horizon. He'd just have to sit tight and see what was to happen next.

He opened the door and went inside, ready.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Long time no... read, huh, again, guys? Well, I'd like to (yet again) apologise for my inability to pump out chapters of reasonable length for a reasonable time for all of you great people who have decided to read my work. Trust me, I don't like it, either, but I just want to set something in terms of clarity when it comes to my uploading schedule: I don't know if I'll manage to ever adhere to a consistent weekly/biweekly/etcetera format, so the best resolution, in my eyes, would be to attempt to the best of my abilities to write something that people'd be interested in reading with a semi-good level of quality, passion and effort put into it, and I could accomplish consistently. Of course, I'll be trying to lean more on the latter half, since it is, undoubtedly, my weak point, by attempting various routines and such.**

 **So, in short, I'll be trying to improve, but I don't promise anything. Anyway, I'm sure all of you didn't come here for the (probably) sixth time just to read my ramblings, so here's to another instalment of "AUA". Cheers and I hope you all enjoy the chapter!**

 **Chapter VI - The Journal**

A few days had gone by and the twins had already begun to settle in with the spectrum of people that was the crew of the Mystery shack well. They both began working alongside them as soon as Stan managed to bring up the possibility of it in casual conversation, all the while secretly having had the notion of doing so even before they had arrived, much to their annoyance and to Matt's already subverted expectations of Stan. Despite being forced to, they seemed to mostly enjoy it - with Mabel revelling in mediums other than work for her fair share of the time and Dipper, at first, simply sticking with his sister and occasionally Matthew, frivolously attempting to make awkward small talk with him, only after which slowly beginning to open up to the rest of the employees as the days went by. Slowly, but surely, they were becoming familiar faces to everyone around, but still mostly stuck to each other and Stanley out of the work environment. Overall, it was evident that the Mystery Shack had become much more lively with the inclusion of the twins to the staff and even Stan had to admit that morale was up.

Matt, on the other hand, only had occasional visits from Bill during the nights that more or less simply served to taunt him through a variety of ways - some plain and blunt as he had been used to and others more akin to the dream he had when he first met Bill - subtle and vague, with familiar imagery and symbolism that was, per usual, erased from his memory as soon as he woke up. What he didn't want to admit was that he had strangely grown used to Cipher's antics and began adapting to them, which, although rarely, actually tried the dream demon's short and fiery temper. Every time he ignored him and consequently enraged him, Bill found a way to grab his attention once more and what ensued over a span of days and was still continuing was an elaborate game of an interchangeable cat and mouse.

It was noon for yet another seemingly boring day at the shack - tourists came and went, business ran rather slow and not much work was there to be done, warranting the present staff of the shack, excluding its proprietor, to mostly slack off and converse with one another. Whether it was Mabel chatting up Wendy on topics the latter didn't seem all that interested or Dipper debating himself on the weirdness that he too had begun to notice in the town whilst Soos tried to desperately distract him with other topics he had personally deemed fit for conversation starters, the only one that seemed to be currently absent was, coincidentally, Matthew. He had gone outside on the porch of the shack to clear his mind and get out of the slew of personages that was the staff, if only for a while. He again berated himself over his isolationist habits that he clung desperately onto as a safety net in every new circumstance he was thrown in, but he knew there was no point in reminding himself of that redundant fact. He sighed and diverted his glance at the towering forest ahead, simply admiring the scenery.

"Hey, kid," a familiar growling voice suddenly startled Matt. "What'cha doin' out here?"

"Oh, um, nothing," he said as he regained his thoughts and turned to face him. "Just sitting out here. Is something wrong…?"

"Nah. I was just wonderin' where you were, 'cause another bunch of suckers are gonna be coming soon."

"Ah, don't worry, Mr. Pines, I'll be right there to clean up after them," he replied with a good-hearted laugh.

"Oh yeah ya will! I won't have you slackin' off on my watch!"

Both continued joking around for a while, up until Stan noticed that it was apparently go-time and that they'd soon have to kick into high gear for the incoming customers. He gestured for Matthew to follow him, and he did as such without question, as they began navigating through already-familiar interior of the shack. In the midst of their way, Stan suddenly diverted the clear trajectory Matthew had, up to that point, thought they were on, and set his sights to the kitchen. There, on the table, laid a handful of signs that were hastily snatched away by Stan and safely tucked in the confines of his armpit, each varying in shape and some even in the material of which they were created.

"What are these for, Mr. Pines?" Matt asked as he gestured at the signs.

"Whaddya think?" he rhetorically asked while grabbing a Pitt Cola from the fridge. "They're 'ta be put up."

"Where?"

Stan shut the fridge and brushed past Matt.

"You'll see," he said as the boy tailed after him.

"See what?"

Stan sighed, feeling a wave of annoyance flush over him at Matthew's persistent questioning.

"Look, just go to 'ta gift shop and I'll be right with ya in a sec," he ordered.

Rolling his eyes, Matthew begrudgingly left him to whatever he was to be doing. As he entered the gift shop, he saw Soos carrying a wooden step-up ladder and, in a monotone and slow fashion, begin putting it down and climbing it. Raising an eyebrow at its purpose and trying to be the initiator of conversation, he went to him.

"Hey, Soos," Matt greeted, all the while eyeing the ladder and then him as well. "What're you doing?"

"Oh. Hey, dood," he replied, meeting his eyes. "Just fixing this shelf Mr. Pines saw the other day. You?"

"Waiting for Stan to come and tell me what to do. You know, business as usual."

" **Oh yeah, Fez's always busy like that,** " Soos suddenly said in an instantly recognisable for Matthew voice, shaking him to his core and causing him to emit a small shriek out of surprise. Not only that, both of Soos' pupils, at a single blink, transformed into those exactly akin to Cipher's single eye, leading Matt to the obvious conclusion that he had done something to Soos. He began frantically blinking as to affirm if what he was seeing was merely a hallucination he had conjured up from loss of sleep or something very real.

"Dood? Hey, you alright?" Soos worrily inquired as everything had seemed to suddenly revert back to normal, affirming Matthew's first presumption.

"Uh…" he responded. "Yes, I'm fine."

Just as Soos was about to begin to question him more, Stan entered the room and soon everyone turned their attention to him.

"Alright, alright, look alive people," he ordered. "I need someone to go hammer up these signs in the spooky part of the forest."

"Not it!" Dipper suddenly piped up with a held up finger, stirring a chain of the same quote from the rest of the potential candidates only a moment thereafter.

"Uh… also not it?" replied Soos, realising it had finally been his turn.

"Nobody asked you, Soos," affirmed Stan.

"I know, and I am comfortable with that," Soos gleefully said.

"Wendy?!"

"Uhh," she moaned. "I would, but… I can't… reach it…!"

"I'd fire all of you if I could," constated Stan. "All right, let's make it… Eeny, meeny, miny… you!"

He had pointed at Dipper.

"Aw, what? Grunkle Stan, whenever I'm in those woods, I feel like I'm being watched!" exclaimed Dipper.

"Ugh, this again," said Stan, rubbing his eyes in exasperation.

"I'm telling you, something weird is going on in this town," he stated, piquing Matt's attention and making him raise an eyebrow at the fact that even someone as new to Gravity Falls as Dipper had noticed its paranormality. "Just today, my mosquito bites spelled-out 'Beware'!"

Stan squinted his eyes, taking a closer look at Dipper's mosquito-bitten arm.

"That says 'Bewarb'."

At that comment and Dipper's consequent realisation, he quickly retreaded his point and unnervingly rubbed his arm in defeat.

"So quit bein' paranoid! Heck, come 'ta think of it," Stan mused as he turned towards Matt. "You do all your work?"

"Yes…?"

"Then go with him. The more-er, the faster-er!"

Dipper eyed Stan uncomfortably upon hearing that order, for he knew it wouldn't be the bestest of ideas pairing them both. Nevertheless, Stan didn't exhibit much care and quickly shooed them away. Begrudgingly, both headed out, each bearing a handful of signs, as well as a hammer and some rusty nails. From the moment the two set out, it was clear that a lingering and awkward silence had been bound to set in, as neither of them uttered a word for a good while. Matthew was wondering what to say as to spike some form of conversation, all the while keeping a close eye on their surroundings and the path they were on. For his objective, he reminisced of when Mabel officially introduced them only a day after they had arrived and he had met her. Much to his dismay, his inattentiveness during then didn't help now in conjuring up a means of discussion.

"So…" Dipper suddenly began with a rather offensive tone in his voice, grabbing Matt's attention. "Where are you from, Matt?"

"I… um, I'm from a little bit south. My parents decided to send me up here for a while. Don't ask why…"

Dipper simply nodded in response, despite feeling unsatisfied with the answer he was given. As the minutes went by, they finally reached their destination and began working on the nearby trees.

"By the way," said Matt as he finished putting up a sign. "I believed you when you were telling Stan about the paranormal."

"Really?" he asked, stopping his hammering out of disbelief and turning to face him.

"Yeah. I've also… noticed some weird stuff going on in this place," he told him, deciding to spare the details about his encounters with the Yeti and Cipher. "But… there's something weird everywhere, so…"

"You've been to a lot of places?" asked Dipper, catching Matt off-guard.

"Um… yeah. I have."

Despite feeling all the more suspicious of the answer Matthew had given him, Dipper decided to keep quiet yet again. Only after the recent revelation he had heard from Matt, he felt that his previous prejudices - including the unease he experienced when Stan executed his bright idea of putting them together - against him might've been, although aptly so at first, still misplaced. Suddenly, while still in thought and proceeding to put up the last of his signs, Dipper heard a clanking sound upon hitting the nail to the hardened stem of the tree.

"Um… what did you hit?" asked Matt, having also heard the commotion.

"I… I'm not sure," muttered Dipper, proceeding to tap his hammer on the stem again, only to confirm what they had heard.

"I've seen things… but I haven't seen a tree made of metal yet, heh," joked Matt.

"It's not the whole tree…" Dipper said as he examined the bark. "This part has dust on it!"

"Wait, what do you mean?" inquired Matt as he began going over to investigate as well.

Just then, Dipper pulled the dusted segment of the seeming bark and it opened as if it was akin to a safe door. Inside was a metal compartment spanning the width of the tree and containing a variety of panels and controls, neither of which clued in Dipper, nor Matt, as to the reasons for the compartment's existence.

"Woah," mumbled Matt, who stood behind Dipper in awe. Without any warning, Dipper suddenly flipped one of the switches and both heard a piercing sound on their six, only to turn around and discover that a part of the ground had seemingly given way. Quickly brushing past Matt, Dipper trotted to the new point of interest and knelt, only to find that it was simply another metal-surrounded storage space, with the key difference being that there instead of what he had expected - more panels and gadgets - there laid a journal, entangled with cobwebs and unrecognisable by years of built-up dust. Picking it up, Dipper proceeded to wipe away the entanglements, unraveling the cover of the journal - a red textile with a golden six-fingered hand glued in the middle, the number "3" embroidered on it.

"Okay…" uttered Matt, now also eyeing the journal. "No metal tree, but someone with a really strange obsession with this book. Yeah, I'd take the tree."

"Who could've done this? Why put a book in the middle of nowhere?" asked Dipper, turning to Matt for answers and only receiving a shrug in return. Keen to learn the details about the book and to possibly provide himself with an explanation of its mysterious and dubious whereabouts, Dipper finally pried open the book.

"'It's hard to believe it's been sixteen years since I began studying the strange and wondrous secrets of Gravity Falls, Oregon'," he read with astonishment, shifting through the pages and their diverse content on the paranormal of Gravity Falls.

"Woah, look at all of this," exclaimed Matthew. "This is probably years of work."

"There're also probably even more of these," noted Dipper, referring to the mysterious "3" on the cover, as he finally stopped on one of the author's last entries. "'Unfortunately my suspicions have been confirmed, I'm being watched. I must hide this book before 'he' finds it. Remember, in Gravity Falls…'"

"'There's no one you can trust…'" finished Matt, seeing Dipper's abrupt pause, and thereafter instigating a sense of uneasiness in the atmosphere between the two.

"HELLO!" yelled out Mabel from behind them, having been hiding under a log the entire time, causing Dipper to shriek in the process. "What'cha two doing? I heard Dipper reading some nerd thing and I thought I'd save you from being boooored to death!"

"Eh, thanks…?" replied Matt, frankly feeling weirded out.

"So, what're you doin', huh?"

"Er, um…" fumbled Dipper before Matt got a chance to say anything. "It's nothing!"

"'Uh-uh, it's nothing!'," imitated Mabel. "What, aren't you both gonna tell me?"

"Er… let's go somewhere private," offered Dipper, receiving a nod from Matt in agreement. The three set off to the Mystery Shack and Dipper, speeding through, having been heavily entrenched in the Journal's writings, left Matt and Mabel quite a few steps behind.

"Oh," Mabel cheerfully sighed. "Dipper found his girlfriend for the Summer!"

"Is he always like that?" asked Matt with a small laugh in-between.

"Well… even back in Piedmont, he's always cooped up with some science-y book and reading it all the time. I guess this is probably gonna the same."

"Looks like it."

"Yeah, and we can't stop him now even if we tried."

"Have you ever tried to?"

Mabel let out a small sigh, and it became clear to Matthew that there was something on her mind.

"Sometimes. I just… I want to help him get out there, y'know? I don't hate his books or whatever, but it's made bullies make fun him and I just don't want the same to happen here…"

"I see," nodded Matt in understanding. "If it makes you, um, feel any better, this town has a lot more weirdness than what I've seen from Dipper."

Mabel snickered at that supposedly comforting statement.

"Well, I hope you're right. And… thanks for telling me that. Maybe it's gonna be different here."

"Hope so. And… no problem," muttered out Matt, returning another laugh from Mabel.

"Come on, let's catch up to him," she finished as she began treading across the path, with Matt following close behind. Soon enough, they reached the shack, only to find Dipper already there, in the living room.

"You won't believe what we found, Mabel! Grunkle Stan thought I was being paranoid, but according to this book, Gravity Falls has a 'secret dark side'!" exclaimed Dipper, all of this being relatively known to Matthew already.

"Woah! Shut up!"

"And get this, at one point, the pages just… stop. Like the person writing it suddenly vanished!"

"Eeh, I wouldn't go that far," interjected Matt, seating himself on the floor. "Anything could have happened."

"It's still really… paranormal," highlighted Mabel, only causing Matt to roll his eyes. Suddenly, as Dipper was about to tell of yet another element of the journal, the doorbell to the door rang.

"Um, who's that?" inquired Matt with a quizzical expression.

"Welp, time to spill the beans!" she exclaimed, knocking over a coincidentally-placed can of beans to accentuate her point. "This girl's got a date!"

"Wait, in the half-hour we were gone, you already managed to find a date? How?" asked Dipper.

"I second that question," uttered Matt.

"Well, what can I say? I guess I'm just irresistible!"

Another doorbell ring emitted out of Mabel's complacency, this time of a clearly much hastier demeanour.

"Coming!" she shouted, being on her feet the moment thereafter.

Soon enough, the door was already wide open and Mabel was engaging in lighthearted discussion with her supposed date. As Dipper was trenched in the journal, he barely reacted to Stan poking out through the doorframe, yet luckily still managed to do so fast enough to mask the journal with one of the odd magazines out of Stan's vibrant collection hidden close to the armchair.

"What'cha reading there, slick?"

"Oh, u-um… just… 'Gold Chains for Old Men' magazine…?"

"Ah, that's a good issue."

"Hey, family!" Mabel shouted, grabbing the attention of the three denizens of the living room and redirecting it to the figure next to her. "Say hello to my new boyfriend!"

The sight was one that beckoned a suspicious tingle in everyone's backside but, of course, Mabel's. The seeming boyfriend was one of a taller stature than its significant other, with a rather pale face that's features remained mostly shrouded by a drooping bang, and made it so all that was perceivable was one of his eyes and a weird reddish liquid on one of his cheeks. He also bore a black hoodie with a cowl to complement his enigmatic appearance.

"Sup."

"Hey…" responded Dipper, already worrisome of the figure.

Matt, on the other hand, simply gave a small nod of acknowledgement and a look that shared, to a degree, Dipper's apprehension.

"How's it hangin'," replied Stan as well, not actually keen on receiving an answer.

"So… how do you two know each other?" inquired Dipper.

"We met at the cemetery. He's really deep," explained Mabel, as she grabbed his forearm affectionately. "Oh, little muscle there. Don't know where that… came from."

"And what's your name…?" asked Matt before anyone else could.

"Uh… Normal… MAN!"

"He means Norman," assured Mabel.

"Are you bleeding, Norman?" questioned Dipper, referring to the red liquid on his cheek.

"Er… it's jam," deflected Norman, causing Mabel to gasp.

"Jam?! Oh, I love jam! Look at this!"

"So… you wanna go hold hands, or something…"

"Oh… oh my gosh," flustered Mabel with a nervous laugh. "Don't wait up!"

As Matt and Dipper were still trying to discern when and how Mabel had garnered her boyfriend, the supposed lovebirds had already waltzed off from their view.

"I'm… gonna go upstairs…" announced Dipper while nonchalantly stuffing the journal in his vest, after realising there was nothing of interest for him in the living room anymore, and beginning to head to the attic. "I forgot something in my room!"

Matt had a strong inkling as to why Dipper had decided to leave - it was almost surely to continue his reading of the journal, but something didn't quite add up for him - and that was why. Why had he decided to vanish upstairs, instead of just stay here? Maybe, Matthew thought, hinging what Mabel had told him, that Dipper simply preferred his own company in such endeavours, a bit like how he himself had been used to. Or maybe he just didn't trust him with the journal's secrets yet, despite both of them having found it? He didn't want to believe that was the case, but the thought had lingered at the back of his mind ever since Dipper had seemingly confiscated it for himself. Nevertheless, it's not as if though he was really enticed by the journal much, but he still didn't feel it fair that he couldn't at least have a few queries of his - such as his encounter with the Yeti - explained.

"Hey," piped up Stan, glancing up from the magazine he had been re-reading. "Where'd Dipper go?"

"Oh, he said he forgot something upstairs," answered Matt, omitting the existence journal.

Stan slowly nodded in response, not really being surprised.

"Say," mused Stan. "y'know how Dipper went on 'bout the 'paranormal' this mornin'?"

"Yeah…?"

"I hope ya didn't tell him about the crazy stuff we saw couple 'a days ago," he said. "It's gonna do no good if he goes 'round looking for trouble and things like that one."

Matt nodded in agreement. He felt bad for lying to Dipper about a number of things, but this one he felt it necessary as well, for he knew that if he had told him, it'd be in direct opposition of Stan's goal of keeping him in the dark, and that'd be the last thing he'd want - to be on Stan's bad side. So he decided that, for now, he'd adhere to Stan's wishes, yet keep the journal a secret as to not get both of them in trouble.

"No, I didn't."

Stan smiled, inwardly feeling a rush of relief.

"That's good, kiddo. We ought'a keep it between you and me," affirmed Stan with a wink. "Welp, I'm gonna go contemplate my existence for about fifteen minutes and then wait for more suckers."

Upon hearing that, Matt felt that his hard conversation with Stan had finally ended, but, much to his dismay, he didn't account for Stan's keen-eyedness.

"Hey, one thing I was also wonderin' about," began Stan, leaning on the doorframe. "Did any'a you find anything out there? I think I saw Dipper fiddlin' with something when I came."

A chill ran down Matthew's spine. Just as he thought he had gotten out of the woods, he was faced with yet another test of his resolve.

"Umm, no…?" he quickly replied in his best effort not to invoke suspicion in Stan.

Stan raised an eyebrow, making Matthew immediately pick up on the unfavourable outcome his plan had concluded to. After all, he remembered, lying to Stan was almost always a losing battle.

"You ain't lying to me, are ya?"

He quickly shook his head, feeling terrible about what he was doing, but if he were to recall how many times he has had to lie in the face of his foster parents, he might as well have gotten used to it already. Sadly, the difference here was that he had a much bigger respect for Stan than his previous carers, and it made lying to him extremely heart-wrenching and difficult.

"Huh," answered Stan in confusion, trying to connect the dots in hopes of somehow explaining what he had seen, yet deciding that he'd think upon it later and not drool on it now. "If ya say so."

Finally, Stan left the room and Matt felt calm, or as calm as he could be in the given situation really. He thought himself at a moral impasse, for having to resort to building such a network of lies in a vain attempt not to create any conflicts between himself and the members of the Pines family disgruntled him, yet he found no other feasible alternative for the moment. Letting out an exasperated sigh, he proceeded to get up and attend to his duties.

But something was wrong - he couldn't get up. He felt strangely constricted to the hardwood floor and, despite his best efforts, couldn't move an inch. It was as if though both body and subconscious were working against him, hindering any form of motion and placing him in a lethargic state. Then, he felt it - the loss of orientation, the weariness of his eyes, the relaxing of his muscles and the horrifying realisation that he was falling asleep, or, in other words, entering the Dreamscape. He resisted tooth and nail, not willing to be tormented by Bill once more. No matter what he did, though, and no matter how much he struggled, he couldn't stop the inevitable, as he felt his mind was giving up the will to fight, and he realised that he'd been beaten. With one last conscious thought, he vowed to himself that Cipher's toying would end here and now.

And he fell asleep, again.

 _"Hey there, short-stuff!" echoed the Demon's voice inside of the throne room he had first met him in. "Long time no see, huh?"_

 _"Come out, Bill!" demanded Matt, feeling offended by Bill's condescending tone. "I'm not afraid of you!"_

 _Bill simply sighed._

 _"When will ya learn, kid?" he asked. "I. Will._ _ **Always**_ _. Be. With._ _ **YOU**_ _!" he shouted, his voice ringing in both of Matthew's ears, and, having finished his threatening sentence, finally appeared in front of him in his usual form, and, as always, emitted a daunting aura. In truth, Matthew wasn't that, if at all, phased anymore from Bill's manipulation of the Dreamscape and actually strived to lead Bill onto that through his indifferent expression._

 _"Who says so?" he asked calmly._

 _"I do. I'll always be there in one form or another! Plus, this place specifically is, well, kinda my joint if you haven't noticed," he replied, obviously alluding to the décor of the throne room, which, of course, reflected on his narcissistic tendencies. "So as long as you keep having that imagination of yours that really likes to dream, I'll be here!"_

 _Matt sighed._

 _"What do you want, Bill? You usually don't come to 'talk' unless you want something," he noted, cutting to the chase._

 _"Ha! I like your intuition! You're gonna need it!" he laughed. "But, you're right, I didn't make you snooze off just so I can see you. I wanted… a game of chess!" he revealed._

 _"Chess…? I, eh, don't know how to play chess."_

 _Bill's one eye emitted a clear feeling of dumbfoundedness at that._

 _"Really, lightning bolt? Fine, here," he said, snapping his fingers, to which Matthew instantly became cognizant of the rules. "Now, the terms-"_

 _"Terms?" interrupted Matt._

 _"It's bad manners to interrupt your superiors," scolded Bill with a look of annoyance. "So, in short, if I win, I get your body for that short while we talked about, and if I don't… well… I guess I can cut off on the visits for a while!"_

 _Matthew stood, confused if what he was hearing really did exit out of Bill's unspecified vocal cords, whilst trying to process Bill's words. He felt quite appalled at the opportunity to finally have a shot at getting rid of Bill, even if not forever, and nearly just decided to blurt out 'yes' in compliance. Yet, he steadied himself, and asked - was it worth it? What catastrophic damage might Bill inflict if he agreed and lost, granting him full permission to finally possess his body? But, on the other hand, how cathartic would it be for him to finally be set free?_

 _"Come on, kid, I won't pressure you like last time, but you're gonna wake up eventually. So," he said, extending his hand again. "Going to disappoint me again?"_

 _Were he to do so, Matthew wondered, once more? Obviously, it had never been his goal to try and win Bill over, for he knew that_ were _impossible, but to try to the furthest of his own will to resist his influence and to attempt to predict each and every next move that might follow. And now he had the unique opportunity to be seemingly equal to Bill in terms of power on his own playing field - all limited of course, by the constraints of a game of chess._

 _"Are you gonna try anything funny?" inquired Matt, having reminded himself of that occurring._

 _"Ha! Of course not, kid! I don't deal dirty," Bill replied, not even accounting the possibility of loss._

 _Matthew frowned, diverting his glance away from Bill's eye. He wasn't fully enamoured by either side and he knew he needed more time to make a rational decision. But deep within him a fire of determination felt kindled - one that knew nothing short of total success in his endeavours and one that was eerily unfamiliar to Matthew. He knew this wasn't just between himself and Bill anymore - the fate of the world itself was surely dependent on what machinations Bill had planned to execute if he eventually caved into his torturing and willfully gave his body. It was all or nothing, deal or no deal. That's why, now looking Bill straight in the one eye, he had finally made his decision._

 _For the time for rationality had ceased, and the game was to begin._

 _"You're on," he sternly said, shaking his hand._

 _"Oh boy, this is going to be fun!" exclaimed Bill as he, with a clap of his hands, summoned a large, clearly well-made chessboard. On Bill's side were the marble figurines dyed a chilling black, and Matthew was left commanding the equally as_ majestic _white army._

 _"Your move, lightning bolt!"_

 _Flustering at Bill's statement, he quickly reminded himself - white goes first. He was heftily unsure of which pawn to move, though, due to only very recently being introduced to the basic rules, and, to an extent, the game itself, so precise and carefully thought-out tactics, as well as deliberative counterplay, were out of the window. Still, he grabbed the pawn at D2 and moved it a single space, officially signalling the beginning of the game, and earnestly hoping for the best._

 _"Did you even try with that one, kid?"_

 _Matthew only shot a look of disdain at Bill's way._

 _"Yeesh, okay."_

 _And so both continued playing - the throne room being as quiet as a graveyard, with only the sound of the players' voices and their respective chess figurines' movements echoing throughout. The silence unnerved Matt, who constantly had a feeling he had made a horrible mistake by dealing with Bill. This hunch of his had been garnered largely due to Bill's placid demeanour in the execution of his moves, which, contrary to Matthew's, remained as such even in a position of seeming peril, which, although infrequent, still occurred._

 _Soon enough, the game had progressed to a point where it became increasingly evident that Matthew had begun to expend a good amount of his resources in his vain attempts at outsmarting Bill. It felt as if though the demon had an answer to every futile tactic of his, he thought, and that haunting possibility only served to amplify his pent-up apprehension. Knights were moved to E4 in a foolish naivete, bishops were hopped to B5 and therein met their end, rooks were carefully set about to H6 only to be retreaded back with no clear motive - and still, Matthew did not give up, at the very least not completely._

 _However, the state of the board quickly changed to a point where the situation was undeniably dire. It was more than obvious by now that Bill had a very specific tactic in mind when it came to defeating him - it was a crushing offensive, capitalising on the mistakes of newcomers like him, ruining not only any chances of them_ winning, _but also demoralising them to an extent such as Bill has._

 _"Well?" Bill asked, floating on an imaginary armchair, interrupting Matthew's thinking. "Is that it?"_

 _Matthew looked away, unable to come up with anything and process if he were really going to lose, if he were to bring about the end of the world because of his stupidity, and if he were to lose everyone he had ever cared for as a result. In_ a last _move of utter desperation, he forcefully played an obvious illegal move by moving his queen away from one of Bill's traps and placing her next to his king._

 _"Uh…" Bill stumbled in bewilderment. "You know you can't do that, right?_

 _"Yeah," he replied in a shaky voice, trying to regain his composure. "But… it's still there."_

 _"Fine, let's change that," he conceitedly said, extruding his hand to grab the figurine._

 _But he couldn't move it. The queen as if though remained glued to the board, and did not budge._

 _"Huh?" Bill asked in surprise. "Come on!"_

 _His hand writhed and contorted in the most unimaginable ways, but to seemingly no avail. Suddenly, as he was about to just quit and move on, a forcefield, more akin to a barrier, spawned over the figure, which not only prevented Bill's_ intervening, _but did not allow him to even touch the perimeter of the square on which the queen stood. This odd chain of events, coupled with the conversation he had with Bill before the beginning of the game, gave Matthew an ingenious inkling to why Bill had been oddly limited._

 _"Hey... if my pawns can resist your influence," he wondered. "Does that mean you **really** have total control here? Is it even… your Dreamscape? Or do we both share it?"_

 _Bill's eye twitched to what Matt discerned to be both confusion and petrification at his presumption, with a slight tinge of annoyance, even._

 _"Maybe I can just... imagine that I move my knight here as well, without your control, since you said you won't do anything to cheat..." he noted, rolling his eyes, now feeling a rush of exuberance overcoming him at the thought of what he could accomplish. "And… I think you skipped some moves by trying to move my queen just now, heh."_

 _Bill attempted once more to forcefully move the figurine back to its former position, yet again the forcefield engulfed the square in its entirety. Matthew simply continued moving his pawns over those of Bill's, taking them and quickly turning the tide of battle._

 _"No! **NO!** " shouted Bill, his eye now glowing a blood-red colour and triangular figure morphing into a much more daunting and sizeable one. But Matthew, despite feeling quite dreadful of that sight, was protected from Bill's onslaught by the stalwart barrier, which had now grown to encompass not only the _chessboard, _but himself as well. He knew he was close, so much so that he couldn't allow himself to let up now or be complacent in even the slightest - he had to win, he was going to win. All he had to do was reach the king, who felt ever so close. One by one, the pawns, whose allegiance was clearly to Bill, and obstructed the path to his checkmate, fell, as he moved his army over the tumultuous pounding of Cipher. It was no longer a game anymore - but a battle for seeming survival._

 _Finally, after a one-sided assault, he reached and beleaguered the king. Glossing over it, he deduced that its fate was, much to Bill's detriment, unavoidable now._

 _"Ha," laughed shakily Matt. "Checkmate, Bill."_

 _" **NO!** " he erupted in fury, trying with one last strike of both his humongous hands to annihilate the barrier._

 _But upon impact, only a white light surrounded Matt's retinas and he felt a huge push catapult him away. As if though stunned by a flashbang, only after a short while was he able to get up from his prostrate position and make out anything with a squint of his eyes - unsurprisingly, there was Bill, who he noticed was not exactly keen on even looking at him, but_ moreso _, both of them now weren't in the prestigious throne room anymore, rather in the dark void where he had first found himself in all those long weeks ago._

 _"Well, kid," Bill began, with hands behind his back, and proceeded to turn his triangular body shape 180 degrees as to face him. "Good game!"_

 _The demon's cheery tone emitted a quite dubious aura, as it had always been characterised by a sense of_ condescendance _and elitism, so for it to be present in his seeming defeat, was worrisome at the very least for Matthew._

 _"Yeah…" he replied, rubbing his eyes. "What did you do…?"_

 _"I did say that if I'd lost, I would've cut down on tormenting you for…" he stopped, opening a fancy interdimensional pocket watch out nothingness to remind himself. "About the next month and a half!"_

 _Matthew gulped upon hearing that - he was ecstatic to have stopped him, of course, but the fear of his inevitable return was surely one to keep him awake at nights and motivate him to spend his time more wisely. Possibly by trying to find a way to stop him, he thought hopefully._

 _"So… how long until I wake up?"_

 _"Oh, this is yours_ for _now, lightning bolt! You can control_ it, _since I basically gave you lucidity with all our fun together!"_

 _"Luci… what?" inquired Matthew._

 _"Ugh," moaned Bill in frustration. "Look, I've gotta go. You can wake up when you want or just wait it out."_

 _"Bu-!"_

 _"Adiós for now, kid!" he waved and, with a spark of bright blue bright, ceased to exist in his mind._

 _He was finally alone in the void once more. The realisation of Bill's presence finally being nonexistent was more than a relief, but he had to admit that, on one side, he was going to miss the thrill of dreaming - that is, if he ever even stopped, he thought, or just continued to be greeted with the calm disposition of the nothingness. Whatever the result, he had to be ready for the time when he would inevitably meet Bill again, but currently, seeing as there was not much he could accomplish by staying here, he willed to wake up._

 _Yet, nothing happened. Why didn't it work, he asked in confusion. The demon did tell him that he could wake up at any moment, but the problem was that he didn't tell him how. He had to find a way, he deduced, as that might help in his next meet with him._

 _As he stood, he suddenly felt the familiar white flash of light emit near him, pulsating in a monotone fashion. It was only until he came_ closer _to it that he realised that it was not pulsating, but actually expanding, revealing the real world through his eyes. That's when Matt realised that he was finally waking up, and the way he did differed heavily from when he had Bill in his mind, which pleased him. As the light expanded across every nook and cranny of the void, so too did Matthew finally felt at ease, for he was going back. Eventually, the light broke halfway through the nothingness, his vision returning, as well as his senses._

And he woke up. It took him a while to realise, but yes, it had been indeed true. Slowly and steadily lifting his torso off the carpet, he was soon beckoned by the realisation that he had slept for an unnervingly long time, for he could see the defining beams of the dusk Sun glaring all the way through the kitchen window, which, although to be relatively expected given the length of the dream, still felt surprising to Matthew. Yet, rubbing his eyes and, with a stretch of his body, he finally got up, feeling more exhausted than refreshed. Shrugging it off, though, he trudged down the hall to the gift shop to see if anyone had even noticed he had been sleeping this whole time. It was only then did he begin recollecting what he could of his dream - the game, the deal, and everything that followed suit - and trying to deduce a sensible meaning behind it. Why would Bill ever give him such an opportunity, he wondered for the umpteenth time, unable to come up with much. Maybe he had finally gone impatient with him and willed to use his body as soon as he could, but, having underestimated his will to resist, lost in his hubris. The possibility that he had gotten on the demon's nerves and caused him to hasten his plans, therein paying heavily, thoroughly pleased him, yet also, in a way, worried him, as he would hardly be able to accomplish something of the sort again.

Soon enough, he reached the gift shop and the first thing he noted was the expected absence of Soos and Wendy, having been sent off for the day. What piqued his interest, though, was the fact that Stan had already begun to clear up stock and close shop as well, which just didn't seem right.

"Hey, where were ya?" Stan questioned, having noticed him in his peripheral vision, and obviously not having noticed him sleeping beforehand.

"I, uh…" he stumbled. "I was-"

Just as the vocals of truth came thronging to his lips, the front door opened with a distressing screech, diverting the attention of both Matthew and Stan to it. It was only seconds after, that the pair realised that the twins, who, simply by entering, obviously bearing an unkemptness akin to Matthew's, had entered.

"Why's it that runts some'ow attract each other…" mumbled Stan, opening the cash register to count the day's earnings.

"Well, Grunkle Stan," began Mabel, approaching the counter, with Dipper following suit, and Matthew circling around as well. "Great people do attract each other!"

"Suuuure," he said with a heavy glint of irony as he finally pried his eyes from the stack of bills and instantly noticed all three of the adolescents' worrisome conditions. "Yeesh, did all'a you get hit by a bus or something? Hah!"

Matthew, although wanting to retort to that outrageous proposition, saw that there was no point in finding solace in the exuberance of Stan, and decided to opt out of the conversation. He noticed that, for some reason, unbeknownst to him, both Dipper and Mabel also had the same idea - all of them felt equally as exhausted, he thought.

"Hey, uh, wait!" exclaimed Stan. "Wouldn't'cha know it, I accidentally overstocked some inventory, so, why don't each'a you take one item from the gift shop, y'know, on the house."

"Really?" asked Mabel, in seeming awe.

"What's the catch?" inquired Dipper, who was moreso in a state of dubious disbelief.

"The catch is do it before I change my mind," he sternly said. "You too, kiddo. Somethin' for your work the past few days," he added, pointing to Matthew.

"Wow…" he replied. "Thanks, Mr. Pines!"

"Whatever."

All three scuttled about the various boxes laid out that had no doubt contained recently-acquisitioned stock, and analysed the plethora of trinkets inside of them, hoping to find something that suited them. Matthew looked around, and saw that Dipper had already found something to his liking, that being a hat coloured by a light blue and white, with a pine tree of the former colour, no less, on it. Poring through one of the more rugged boxes, he suddenly noticed something that incited his curiosity - a wristwatch. Although seeming like any other, what his curiosity truly resonated through was his pedanticity, for he noticed immediately on its dark blue wristband engraved a series of runes, possibly alluding to something of mystical character, or nothing at all. After all, he was looking through boxes that had previously been purchased by Stan, he thought, not coming up of any other reason.

"Hey, Matt," called Stan. "Why're ya rummagin' in that old piece'a junk? You ain't gonna find much there."

"It's alright, Mr. Pines," he replied, grabbing the watch and strapping it on his hand. "I think I found what I wanted!"

"Really, kid?" he raised an eyebrow. "A borin' old watch?"

"It's not boring," he argued. "Look," he said, showcasing the runes.

Stan fixated his glasses and took a closer look at it. Then, shock befell his very soul, for the symbols Matthew had shown him looked almost identical, if not akin, to the ones engraved on the frame of the portal. He tried his best not to show any visible shock, and it took every fibre of his temperament not to do so.

"Y-yeah," he stumbled and cleared his throat. "Piece'a junk, like I said."

"But… can I keep it?" Matthew asked.

At that proposition, Stan bit his lip. On one hand, he didn't care, since it was just a simple watch, and it wasn't like handing it over to Matthew, despite the markings, would do any immediate harm - he could tell from a mile away, due to his experience, that its purpose was like any other, and that it didn't carry any extras he could identify. But then again, he wondered, it had always been better to be safe than sorry when it came to anything related to his brother's research. Not wanting to invoke anymore suspicion than he already has, he settled on handing it over to him, but checking and acting accordingly if it incited anything anomalous.

"Sure, if ya wanna weigh yourself down, that's fine by me," he finally answered.

"Than-"

"GRAPPLING HOOK!" interrupted Mabel from nearby, activating her newly-acquired item, and managing to grab the attention of both Stan and Matthew.

"Er, wouldn't you rather have a doll, or somethin'?"

"Grappling hook."

"Fair 'nuff. 'Least you aren't as weird as Matt with a dang watch."

"Hey!" exclaimed Matt, shooting a disapproving look at Stan's way.

"Yeah 'hey', Grunkle Stan," supported Mabel. "Watches are pretty darn cool!"

"I don't mean that," he countered. "I'm just tellin' ya, if you're gonna wear one, have it be good!"

"Like your eighteen-carat gold watches?" suddenly piped up Dipper, as all three encircled the counter.

"Uh… maybe," replied Stan, getting a hunch at what Dipper was alluding to.

"That cost…?"

Stan darted his eyes left and right, unwilling to share that information.

"A'ight, fine, ya got me," he finally admitted defeat.

"Wooo!" celebrated Mabel. "We beat Stan! What do we get?"

"About thirty seconds to run before I grab all'a these and put 'em back in the boxes?" he answered with a mischievous smile as he pointed to the items.

"To be honest," began Dipper with a slight smile. "I don't know if you're serious or joking."

"That's the art of the craft, kid!" he replied with a wholehearted cackle, to which everyone felt at ease and shared in the joy.

Then, there was Matt. Although still puzzled by the reaction Stan had given him regarding the watch, he felt that he shouldn't dwell on that currently and try to savour the wholesome moment. For all of his strife, all of his fighting tooth and nail to feel accepted, and all of his dealings with an interdimensional deity, only now did he feel, dare he think, truly happy. He also gave note to how, although for something seemingly minor as the views on the suitidness of his watch, his newfound friends defended him, without he himself even uttering a word in aid. Coupling it with everything that had happened earlier that day - his conversation with Stan, his interactions with the twins and his culminating dream - he honestly struggled to hold tears of unbridled joy as to why and how he had managed to stumble on such an extraordinary place at such a dreaded time in his life and if he had really deserved all that he had been given.

He didn't know and, if he were to be frank, he really didn't care now, for he had more important things to be doing than trying to decode his feelings for the hundredth time.

Finally, discreetly wiping his eyes, he put on a broad smile and revelled in the delight with the others.

 **P.S. Interesting fact: As of publication, this chapter is only a day away from my birthday. Guess I finally had my premature wish of completing this chapter, heh.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Well, I goofed up again. Seven months and twenty-one days I left you guys without a new chapter and, I'll admit, I struggled with many questions regarding how or when I might finish this rollercoaster of a story I began all the way back in 2018. But through it, I realised that there wasn't any point in cowering in self-loathing which led me to dedicate most of July to finishing the longest instalment of the fic. I tried hard with this one, so I hope y'all enjoy it because I don't even know when I'll be able to write the next one.**

 **But before that, I'd also like to celebrate a very belated anniversary of the story and thank you all dearly for the views (over 1,000!), favourites and follows.**

 **Katapultman out** **hopefully not for another 7 months!**

 **Chapter VII - The Cave**

"Oh, come on! I know you want to!" pleaded Mabel as she was walking down the corridor of the upper floor alongside Matthew.

"Uh," he scoffed. "Not really?"

"Psh, you know you wanna, but you're just…" she hesitated. "Scared!"

"Of?" he questioned, turning to face her. "Actually, why do you want to help with something like this anyway?"

"So I can be chore-free later! Plus, you're the only one with the keys to Stan's secret warehouse!"

He raised his eyebrow. "Really? Just that? Not anything else?"

"Yes…?"

"Well, then get ready to move some boxes."

"And?"

" _Well_ , that's about it."

At Matt's sardonicism, she let out a small grunt of annoyance. In truth, her main priority that day hadn't been to remain labour-free, although that had sounded like an added bonus, but she was moreso interested in attempting to strike up conversation with Matthew, and, much to her spite, this was the best idea she could come up with: involving herself in his work. She had to admit that the accomplishment of her bigger goal - that was characterised with getting to know everyone in the Mystery Shack - had only really been obstructed by Matthew's reluctance and isolationist habits, which made her wonder if she had just gone off to a bad start, or if she herself simply hadn't been approachable enough in the first place?

"Alright," she replied, shrugging it off, now having descended down the stairs. "But I guess there's no point stopping me now, since I'm gonna see anyway!"

"Yeah," said Matt with a sigh, unlocking the door to the purposeful warehouse. "I guess you will, but don't be disappointed with me when nothing interesting happens."

"I won't," she affirmed. "I'll just finally know how seriously boring your work is!"

"Well, what did you expect, really?" he asked, visibly confused.

"I dunno. Anything other than what you're saying it is!"

With a roll of his eyes, Matthew diverted his glance to the rather large amount of boxes that were scattered about the compact room. Although bearing no obvious significance - and having been explicitly instructed by Stan not to glaze over their contents - he couldn't have wished otherwise anyway.

"So…" began Matt. "Game plan?"

"Hm," she wondered, counting the cargo. "Nineteen box-os!"

"Okay then, you go for those on the left," he suggested. "And I'll take the rest! Deal?"

She hesitated, her thoughts preoccupied and causing her to zone out on him.

"Mabel?" he asked, searching for confirmation. "Mabel…?"

"Yes!" she piped up. "That's good, heh…"

"...Okay," he replied, having felt rather dubious of Mabel's one-off moment of existentialism, but quickly dismissed it as nothing more than being interrupted while deep in thought - something he had been on the receiving end quite a lot.

Nevertheless, they both split up as planned and, soon enough, encumbered with boxes, were en-route to the gift shop, where Stan had wanted them delivered. But as they were trudging away in silence, Mabel suddenly bumped Matthew with her elbow in an attempt to get his attention.

"Hey, look! It's Grunkle Stan when he was younger," she noted, filled with exuberance, pointing to a nearby picture of him that lay in a frame and sat on a drawer. "And… handsome-er…?"

"Huh. He does look a lot different…" affirmed Matt, also highlighting some unfamiliar traits of Stan's persona. Truly, it was… someone else. "Strange."

"Well," she began, lifting her hand to her eyes in an attempt to mimic his glasses while using her knee to balance out the boxes. "That's what glasses do to you! See, I was normal Mabel, but now I'm nerdy Mabel!"

"Hey! Don't stand like that," ushered Matt. "You could drop the boxes!"

Mabel simply chuckled, hand in the air. "Oh, Matt, you're like Dipper. Don't worry, I can hold them like this! Look!"

"Just… use your hands, please," he pleaded, beginning to move along.

She only rolled her eyes in response, after which she attempted to regain her grip, yet it proved, much to her surprise, to be a bit harder than she had thought. Her complacency only provided Matthew with all the more reason to turn around and see why she hadn't been following behind.

"Uh, Mabel?"

"D-don't worry, I'm okay!" she replied, finally seeming to have stabilised herself. "L-look," she said with a gulp, and took a step forward to attempt to prove her statement.

But it turned out that there had been a point to looking at your feet when walking, for suddenly, Mabel stumbled forward falling, having tripped on one of the legs of the drawer and, in one fell swoop, dragged Matthew in her drop, stumbling onto him with full force. Both collapsed over each other on the hardwood floor with a loud thump that only resonated with the commotion of the dropped cargo.

The first to recover to some extent was Mabel - she edged away from Matt and, with a rub of her arm, steadied herself and attempted to clear her blurry vision. It was only after she did as so did she realise what her carelessness had really caused. The gratuitous amount of glass shards, which were now strewn all around the corridor, had, without a doubt in her mind, come from the broken contents of the thrashed boxes and they only served to confirm her deeply sunken fears. But there was something else that sent a much more distressing chill through her spine.

"M-Matt?!" she called in apparent distress, yet, much to her relief, realised it had been without point, for Matthew had begun to recover himself, albeit with some visible pain and discomfort.

"What happened…?" he asked, rubbing his throbbing head, only to also notice the pieces of broken glass. "Oh no. No, no!"

He quickly rushed to investigate the scene of the accident, yet to no avail, for he came to the same conclusion as Mabel - whatever they had been carrying, which Matt had explicitly been told not to pore over, was now broken beyond any imaginable repair. Attempting to not waste any more time, he began, in a dazed demeanour, to try and clean up what he could.

"C-careful!" warned Mabel, but Matt simply ignored her, trying to quell his anger and not lash out. Still, seeing no other resolution to the situation at hand, with a heavy heart, she began to also hastenly, but carefully, pick up the fragments of glass. What bothered her immensely was the eerie lack of any sort of acknowledgment from Matthew, to which she knew the obvious reason, yet it still made it astoundingly hard to bottle up her emotions and really take everything in.

Oddly enough, both had forgotten about one factor - one small detail that would elevate the situation from worse to horrid; to grossly unsalvageable.

"What the heck happened here?!" shouted Stan, having rightfully strolled in from the upper floor, and forced the kids' heads upward to face him. Yet, after analysing the situation and darting his eyes between the two, he was only met with their horror-stricken glances and not a coherent response as he had ordered.

"I'mma count to three and by then I want to know which one'a ya did this and why," he calmly stated, having his temper abruptly shortened and not wishing to be disobeyed once more. "One…"

Mabel looked at Matthew with a distraught frown upon her face, yet he did not meet her gaze, choosing to yet again deal with himself even when a mutual understanding had mattered most.

Yet, somehow, she understood why. Despite not wanting to accept it, she knew she had shattered what little trust he had in her, and now her seemingly altruistic intent - to try and build friendships with the people in the Mystery Shack as much as she could - was to be but shrouded in prejudice.

"Two."

She could feel the lump rising in her throat now - she wasn't sure what Stan might do if she came forward with the truth, yet it wasn't as if trying his patience had seemed like a better alternative, either. The pressure built up and in the briefest moment of pure pathos, she finally decided it was time to stand her ground and for her to take the blame, as owning up to her mistakes was something she couldn't do in the presence of her twin and his often self-sacrificial attitude.

"I did it!" shouted Matthew, having gotten up to face Stan in the eyes, catching both him and, especially, Mabel off-guard. "I… I tripped and it all happened because of me."

"N-no, wait!" retorted Mabel, not wishing for Matthew to be the subject of Stan's wrath. "Grunkle Stan, I-I-"

"A'ight, cut it out!" he demanded with a raised tone, high enough to silence both of them instantly. With an exasperated sigh, he continued. "Did I ask THAT much of ya? 'Ta just carry some god-forsaken boxes?!"

"B-but-" attempted to refute Mabel.

"No buts! Both of you are gonna be cleanin' this up and not moving anythin' else," he ordered sternly, suppressing his anger for the sake of not having an emotional outburst in front of both of them. "And don't think any'a you are off the hook after that, either. I still gotta see what I can go for with this, anyway," he warned, after which he made a beeline for the gift shop, and left Matthew and Mabel alone once more.

Almost immediately after, Matthew set his sights on cleaning the mess caused and, without a word, proceeded to briskly head out and grab the necessary tools. Mabel only watched in confusion, unsure of what to even say to ease the situation, or if to say anything at all. Considering that time was of the essence, for now, she decided that the latter option of staying silent would be safer, despite making her feel terribly uncomfortable, but still lest she invoke an unintended reaction. And so, with a heavy feeling of utter acquiescence, she began following Matthew.

As she was doing so, upon deliberating silently upon what had occurred, she came to a realisation. The situation at hand oddly reminded her of the rare times when she and Dipper had caused such troubles for their parents out of occurrences in a similar vein as the one now - whether it had been a game turned accident, or, even in some cases, accident turned game - they'd somehow always managed to strain out their parents, yet, despite the ever-so ambiguous nature of their conflicts, they themselves never held each other accountable as Matt had now rightfully done so with her.

Although the fact that now she had to deal with a different setting and not what she'd been partially used to with Dipper had entered her thoughts, she became more hopeful that, based upon her experience with such antics, she could think up of a few pointers to guide herself in the right direction. Attempts to cheer Matt up, or, at the very least, as she had first thought, simply allowing time to sort it out popped up as ideas in her mind. Her thoughts changed when she realised that she wasn't really keen on either extreme, for both posed the risk of only worsening the situation depending on Matthew's current feelings. And, she had to be honest with herself - she did not and probably never would get to know him as well as to be able to help his seemingly enigmatic mind and persona, which served to be a roadblock for her current endeavours. All of that culminated in diminishing her already unstable demeanour, as the brunt of reality thrust her feelings and created a slew of other emotions in her. There was apprehension and worry looming over her like a rain cloud, but therein also called a sense of ambition and possibility of fulfilment, with neither winning over.

It wasn't until in all of her pondering that she, again, managed to distract herself and lose her focus, which resulted in an untimely collision with Matthew, who had already found his destination. It was, unsurprisingly, the broom closet.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, beginning to back up a few paces. "Um… sorry, didn't see you! I-I mean…!"

Matthew simply held up his hand in aversion of Mabel's apologies and excuses, not even willing to face her, which dissipated her attempts of acquittance instantly. He believed that she had already done enough damage, and bringing attention to any more of her doings would simply be akin to adding fuel to a raging fire. After seeing that Mabel had gotten the message, with a heavy sigh, he put his hand down, opened the door to the broom closet and began doing an inventory of what he required, again, not taking into account Mabel, who had begun emulating him in an attempt to help out.

"Do we, um, need this?" she inquired, pointing to a tool Matt had never even seen before, to which he let out another sigh.

"No, we…" he began, but found no sense in explaining himself. "I don't know. Get what you want."

Now Mabel began feeling even more desperate and, if she were to be frank, a bit annoyed. Matthew's barrier of apathy had seemed to be unbreachable and any attempt to do so, she surely knew now, resulted in only angering him further. It seemed that such ascetic behaviour could only warrant the same in her as well, and that any attempts to differ were met with hostility. It would have to be fighting fire with fire.

After a while, Matt exited the closet with equipment in hand and, with the same dreary disposition, proceeded to return to the scene of the incident. Mabel, having reached her own epiphany, followed suit only a moment after, yet kept her distance from the boy.

For both, the shack became much, much quieter that day, coupled with the fact that it'd seemed as if everyone had been off doing errands or, dare either of them think, actually working, and that they were the only ones causing any sort of trouble. This possibility, crossing Mabel's mind, did not sit right with her. Was it that both of them were just having a bad day and needed time to gather their bearings, only to then resolve their silly dispute? She couldn't know, yet that did not put her off track on how she had set out to act with her grumpy colleague, whose attitude had been spurred on entirely and accidentally of her own volition.

Eventually, she caught up with her said colleague. He had already begun to sweep up the biggest of the shards, having taken extra measures to hasten his progress and be done with the tedious task. Mabel simply set her own equipment beside the afflicted area and began doing the same, although with not much emphasis on said haste, preferring to take a slower and more careful approach. Both of them, again, ignored each other and worked in utter silence - so much so that, had anyone walked up on them, they would think they had walked in a cemetery rather than a tourist trap. Heck, Matt thought with a glint of irony, they could be an exhibit themselves: one of the popular ones, even, considering the realism factor and effort put into it compared to the rest of Stan's attractions. Yet still, the possibility that the other was subconsciously evaluating his own stance and attempting to find reason in the midst of such reticence came thronging more and more often in their minds. Much to both of their relief, for quite a while, they weren't expressed in any way, shape or form, leaving both of them in a state of awkward yet worthwhile limbo.

"Ah!" suddenly flinched Matthew, having felt a sharp pain in one of his fingers. "Darn it..."

"What's wrong?" asked Mabel, not being able to hold out on her curiosity and, to some extent, worry.

"N-nothing…" he replied. "I just cut myself," he said and, having revealed the injury, looked at the blood endearingly, much to the relative disgust of Mabel. "Let's just… get back to work."

"W-wait, don't you want to put something on it? Not to mention that, well, you could cut yourself again!"

Matthew sighed, obviously experiencing an inner dissonance with his feelings towards Mabel and her admirable altruism.

"Here," she continued. "I have this napkin I got from the diner last night!" She brought it up to her hand and offered it.

"You… you don't need to worry about me. I'll be fine," he tried to assure. "I only want to get this over with so we can be…".

"Be what?"

"Rid of each other."

"You… you do know Stan wants us again after this, right?" she asked him with a frown. "So just please, take the napkin so you don't get that thing infected," she reasoned, pointing to the cut.

Again, he felt at an impasse - even such a simple gesture of kindness could symbolise that the grudge he had held was simply a byproduct of his tendency to hyperbolise the troubles he faced, and that Mabel, despite having caused such a hassle, seemed genuinely apologetic. Considering all of that, with a sigh, he took the handkerchief from Mabel's hand and dressed his wound.

"Thanks," he told her solemnly, still feeling the raging dilemma stirring within him.

Mabel simply smiled and gave out a solemn nod, inwardly feeling as if though she had finally accomplished something, and both of them resumed their work in the same familiar silence. Soon enough, they had scraped up seemingly all of the shards and the entire floor itself had looked as if though nothing had gone wrong. Nevertheless, with one obstacle less and an incurred productive demeanour, they both set aside their tools in their respective area and began to set their sights on where Stan had now truly wanted them for their next task.

Hopefully nothing would go wrong there, subconsciously thought Mabel.

"Oh hey doods," waved Soos, having seen them enter the gift shop.

"Hiya, Soos!" greeted Mabel, to which Matt joined in only a smile and wave. "Do you, um, know where Stan is?"

"Hmm," intently thought Soos. "Oh yeah! He took on a group and said he'd be done somewhere 'round… twelve-thirty?"

"Oh, okay!" she responded. "Hey, what _is_ the time, anyway?"

Soos wondered. "Err, lemme take a-"

"Uh-uh, no need for that," piped up Matt with a sudden array of confidence. "It's twelve past twenty," he stated, having gazed to his recently-donned cyan wrist watch.

"Woah dood, since when did you get such a cool watch?"

"Ah, Stan… gave it to me."

"Well, take it from me, Matt," began Soos. "Having any watch instantly increases your suave factor by ten."

"I… did not know that."

"Well, I did learn it from Stan… or a video game. Or maybe it was a videogame about Stan…? Hmm."

"And right this way," suddenly spoke up a gruff voice from behind all three of them which was instantly recognised as his leading away yet another group of tourists. "You can mandatorily indulge in acquiring yourselves, for a variable fee, 'course, souvenirs and merchandise from our illustrious Gift Shop! And last but not least, don't forget to check out the best attraction - the 'No Refunds' sign," he mentioned, pointing to it. "It instantly dazes anyone that looks at it with an unquenchable thirst for shopping, including… all of you now!"

At that last statement, the dim-witted tourists became awestruck and instantly fell under the fallacious spell of Stan's frugality, soon enough having diverged their attention to what the store had to offer.

"Ah, it always gets 'em," calmly monologued Stan, rummaging in his suit pocket and grabbing a handkerchief which he promptly used to rub his sweat-tinted glasses. Putting them back on, he turned his gaze to the counter and noticed the presence of the two adolescents, much to his surprise. "Woah, you two finished already?"

"Mhmm!" hummed Mabel in the midst of the small cacophony caused by the tourists.

"Heh, that's good, since now we ought'a discuss what _really_ happened with you two," mentioned Stan in a frigid tone, sending a chill down Matthew's spine and garnering a frightened look from Mabel.

"Woah, what did you doods do?" asked Soos, also feeling their apprehension.

"So, one'a you tell me exactly what happened," ordered Stan, ignoring Soos, who after that decided to just stay out of the conflict. Matthew and Mabel looked at each other, unsure how to proceed once more and adhere to Stan's demands. "And no lyin'."

Both of them now felt immense pressure as once more Stan had wanted to squeeze out every bit of information out of them for a still-shrouded-in-ambiguity-and-vagueness purpose, which was really what was frightening both of them. Still, Mabel felt determined not to let Matt take another bullet for her and that it'd been time for her to finally spill the truth, hopefully fixing the situation once and for all.

With a sigh, she stepped forward. "Look, Grunkle Stan, it's… it's my fault. I was horsing around and, well… I got a bit too distracted and thought I could hold the boxes without one of my hands. Then, I-I tripped and bumped Matt, too, and… that's when you found us."

Having now heard what had really happened, Stan returned a slow and solemn nod to Mabel. "I see… I guess ya could say that's an accident, so you're alright," he stated, gesturing to her. "But that leaves one question," he continued, turning to Matt as he suddenly changed his expression. "Why'd _you_ lie 'ta me, kid?"

For a few seconds, both of them were simply stunned by the sudden change in Stan's tone, with one of them having no idea how to answer him, and the other being equally as lost when it came to defending the former's innocence in the whole ordeal. The guilt weighed upon her even more and again, she insisted on not letting Matthew be a victim of a miscarriage of justice.

"Wait, G-Grunkle Stan!"

"Mabel!" piped up Matt, silencing her. "I… I can explain," he stated to both of them. "I didn't lie to you. I just didn't want you to punish Mabel because, well, the entire thing was really **my** fault for allowing her to help me."

"You let 'er help you? I didn't tell ya if you could ask someone 'ta help you."

"I know…" he replied solemnly. "And that's why I'm to blame, Mr. Pines."

"No, he isn't!" Mabel piped up once more. "Grunkle Stan, please!"

"Mabel," began Stan in a dreary tone. "Just tell me one thing: is Matt tellin' the truth or not?"

"Uh…" she hesitated, taken aback by the sudden query, at a crossroads of whether to once again indulge in Matt's theatre. She quickly weighed-in the scales and knew that, on one side, persisting to shed light on her part of the truth would bring about more lies and trouble to her peer, yet on the other, she would have the whole charade cleared up.

But deep down she had already made her decision. And she couldn't allow herself to sacrifice someone's trust in her, not again. Solely upon that alone, but very begrudgingly, she knew what to say and how to say it, "Y-yes, but… I also insisted! So I'm to blame, too!"

"And that's why?" he asked both Mabel and Matthew. "Nothin' else?"

"Y-yes…" replied Mabel, feeling a huge burden lifted off her shoulders out of having finally told the truth - or what had at least felt like it.

Stan, finding the will to trust in both of them and having now had everything seemingly cleared up, let out a tired sigh. He noticed the clearly distressed looks on both of the children's faces and decided that it was high time he had cleared up their worries and his reasons for badgering them so much.

"Look, I ain't gonna do anything to none'a you if that's what you're wondering. I just want'cha to know that I'm disappointed in both of you, 'specially in you, Matt," he revealed, shattering the boy's already-fragile ego. "Not for anything else, but for lyin' to me about something so small. And I don't even care who's to blame, 'cause in my eyes, you both are."

The two simply stared at the hardwood floor, heads hung in shame and frowns laid out with sorrow. Mabel was hurt, but Matthew felt devastated - he had finally been dealt a just blow for his web of lies and half-truths, which he had reasonably attempted to clear up and compensate for. Yet still despite this hit of karma that hurdled down to his conscience, it felt horrible to have Stan, out of all people, lose faith in his credibility. If he didn't trust him, he grimly thought, who else would?

"Moral'a the story is, if you have'ta lie, do it for something that matters, not for stuff like this, and not to me," he finished, leaving them both disheartened. "Now, I need you two to run to the store down at the museum and get'a couple of things," he said, turning to Mabel and giving her a list with several articles. "Can I trust ya to do that?"

"Y-yes!" she responded in an assertive tone, to which Stan turned his glance to Matt in wake of an answer as well.

But… he turned away.

Although having once more noticed his gloomy nature, and therein a reason for his unwillingness to answer the question that had been directed to both of them, Stan did not persist, as despite everything, he had slowly grown used to Matt and was able to identify when the boy had hit a breaking point. Ironically, someone like him would have to now only assume that they had both learned something from this entire ordeal. But he could never be too sure with kids, he had to admit, especially these ones.

"Okay, I ain't got nothing else, so you two be off," he ordered and began to leave the vicinity of the gift shop to attend to other matters. Soon enough, Matthew and Mabel were, again, left with their own company.

"Welp," muttered Matt, apathy pervading through his emotions. "Let's go."

He started walking towards the door to the gift shop, his gait and overall aura oddly energetic and with an unnerving sense of spite. Mabel followed behind, beginning to once more experience the same feelings of incredulity and defeat trailing after him. It had really seemed as if though no matter her efforts, no matter her struggles, she couldn't fix something so evidently out of her power. Every step forward had resulted in two backward - so what was the point, she wondered. Why even try when something was always destined to go wrong and reset any form of progress?

Eventually, she and Matthew found themselves outside. The new atmosphere that beckoned her felt, in contrast to the Mystery Shack, as a breath of fresh air. But before that, she felt the urge to lock up the door they had exited from. Despite not being obligated or explicitly told to do that by Stan, she was, to put it simply, fed up with her bad luck that day and decided that it would be better to play it safe than sorry, even in minutiae regards such as these. It wasn't until she put the keys back that she noticed her accomplice had decided not to wait on her and had already gone off to the path at his own unreasonably fast pace.

"Hey, wait up!"

Seeing as, even after her plea, he didn't slow his momentum, she instead began attempting to catch up to him. Truth be told, it wasn't that hard as he hadn't gone far.

"Hey!" she began, having reached earshot distance. "Shopping list is with me, Matt."

"So?"

"Weeell, since I don't know where Grunkle Stan wanted us to go, we do kinda need each other to do this. You… do know where it is, right?"

"Yeah. A bit foggy in my head, but…" he paused, deliberating upon his knowledge of the town. "We'll see, I guess. Everything easy today has turned out to be a heck of a challenge, anyway."

Mabel stopped in her tracks, fazed by his indistinct and alluring revelation.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I…" he stopped and wondered if he should even say anything. "I don't know. Find out for yourself."

Mabel paused, not knowing how to even respond to something like that. She experienced the stinging hopelessness again, yet the depravity and arduousness of the situation made her feel ever melancholic, at a crave for answers and willing to resist against Matthew's conniving nature.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?!" she suddenly erupted, voice cracking. "I'm sorry for trying to… to even help you! And… for messing it up… again. But you're not helping, either! And gosh knows I tried to fix everything by making Stan be disappointed in me, not you! But he's mad at both of us now so acting like a jerk won't do anything!"

Matthew, upon hearing her heartfelt and passionate confession, wasn't sure how to respond at first. What she had laid out to him just now had sat as a possibility in the back of his mind; he had an inkling for it, but he didn't perceive it as the predominant reason for what had occurred. Was it because he spawned it out of a false perception of her character and thought that what she had done really had been with some sort of malintent? Could he really blame himself that much, considering he didn't know her that well?

But then, his mind retreaded back to what she had told him now and his previous interactions with her - he realised that, truthfully, every time he had conversed with her, no matter the circumstances or how either of them had felt, she had always helped him with her sense of unbridled optimism and, now he knew, unparalleled sincerity.

Whatever the case before might have been, it became clear that every way in which he had responded to the plethora of occurrences that day and to whom he had affected, had been utterly **wrong**. He was wrong in his appraisal of the problems faced, his response to them, his judgment, but most importantly, in how he treated someone with such a benign and pure disposition, who was one of the few that did not treat him with seemingly any feeling or form of prejudice; someone who, in reality, had just wanted to be a helping hand from the beginning - and in the time when he really needed one, felt at most tranquil and without excuse to say otherwise, what did he do? Act with a sense of utmost privilege and disregard.

And that was really what had started all of it.

Looking back at her, he only saw her deepened frown and tear-stricken eyes. His only intent now was to offer a sense of reprieve to the one he had affected so dearly.

"Mabel…"

"You don't need to say anything…"

"But!"

"I'll just… go ahead."

"I thought you didn't know the way…" muttered Matt under his nose.

"Well, I suddenly remembered!" she retorted, having heard him, and burst forward with back turned. Mentally slapping himself for his inappropriate comment, he desperately began trying to catch up to her - to mend the wound he had created - but for the first time that day, he was at a loss for words. In an ironic twist of fate, he thought, now _he_ felt the impact of the way he had treated Mabel, and boy did it sting.

"If you'd just let me-"

"No, Matt!" she interrupted and turned to him, both sorrow and ire in her eyes. "You… you don't have to say anything to make me feel better! I know what I am to you! So the best thing you can do right now is to leave me alone!" she finally snapped, leaving the boy absolutely dumbfounded. In response to that, she simply took off once more, this time she without even a care for a direction or precaution for speed, unable to contain her emotions and let reason guide her. Her only desire now was solitude, and Matthew didn't help in that regard at all.

"Wait!" he shouted, still continuing to follow her.

But soon, he quickly realised that she had actually begun to run away from him, and he immediately gave chase without a second thought. As they raced through the path, neither of them expressed any concern to the fact that they had actually begun heading deeper and deeper into the forest, for both were fixated upon ascertaining their goals. Yet still, despite the new harsh and unrelenting terrain, Mabel kept the lead, with both of the children's stamina and speed at odds with one another. The boy shouted various pleas and enticements at her, attempting to assuage her conscience and allow her to rethink her actions. It was all in vain, however, and it only succeeded in wasting his breath. Eventually, he became exhausted and began to lose focus, unwillingly beginning to slow down and excessively pant. The same had begun to affect Mabel as well, with both having no idea as to where they had run off to or how they might retread their steps.

Just as Matthew was about to stop and give up, suddenly, out of his sheer inattentiveness, he tripped over one of the nearby trees' enormous and camouflaged network of roots. The impact of it caused him to lose his balance and stumble forward, but much to his misfortune, what greeted him instead of the levelled dirt was a steep slope which he began swiftly tumbling from. Dirt and muck soon pervaded his clothes, hands, and even face as he tried to reassure a stable position in order to slow his downward momentum. Sadly, that quickly proved to be an impossible task, as any attempt of it resulted in only injuring him and further increasing his velocity. His constant howls of pain, he felt, would be enough to alert Mabel, yet still, he couldn't help but utterly wail as his knees and shoulder bones braced the impact of the rock-strewn ground. His sight - constantly undercut by the intrusive, searing flinch of pain - sporadically caught glimpses of a fast-approaching glade, and he dearly hoped that it would cushion his eventual fall.

But his eyes had deceived him, and what followed suit was only to be equally as harrowing as his entire fall.

All the while, Mabel, having heard Matthew's distress, turned around to make an appraisal of the situation, and quickly noticed the absence of Matt in her sightlines.

"M-Matt…?" she muttered to herself in a slight panic as she slowly began to realise where her emotional burst had lead both of them to. "Matt, where are you?!" she now shouted, instinctively trotting over to the peak of the inclination first.

Only there did she glaze over the tracks of dirt laced on the path Matthew had gone through and the small pieces of clearly tattered blue cloth hanging over on various twig sprouts. Immediately, she connected the dots and realised what had occurred, although deep inside she had hoped that her presumption had simply been that and not something worse. As she carefully but resolutely began descending from the hilltop, she felt adrenaline pumping through her veins, fear like no other overtaking her at the thought of what she might have caused in her vying with Matthew for a resolution to a grudge that had been, in reality, pointless from the very beginning. Eventually, she too caught glimpse of what Matt had believed to be his saving grace from the arduous fall. At first, she also felt the sight's features characteristic those of a clearing or plain, but as she hastily skimmed over the hillside and squinted her eyes, she was able to see past the façade and really discern it - there was a wide series of dark-coloured thorn-laden plants that formed a vivid curtain over her immediate purview, therein masquerading the appearance of something like a placid glade to the eye afar. She wasn't certain of where they continued, but despite her initial mix of awe and fear at the sight of such an unnerving deviance from the vigour and exuberance nature had been known for, she did not let it stop her. Seeing as there had really been no other place for Matthew to have disappeared, she took a deep breath and trudged towards the malignant, otherworldly flora before her, and braced herself for what was about to come.

As she began navigating through the dense thicket of twigs and branches - of which even the tallest barely encompassed her height - she felt almost every part of her body being scratched by the thorns save her face, as she did everything in her power to shield it from harm. More and more did she also notice her clothes beginning to slightly tear and wear out, not really aiding her in the braving of the tight and seemingly endless labyrinth before her. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she spotted something out of the corner of her eye. And never more had she been excited to recognise the rind of a tree as she began heading to it as quickly as she could, still scraping by the imposing and claustrophobic environment.

And then, in the midst of blindly following through her rather vague trajectory, she suddenly felt the absence of any poking sensation anywhere on her body. Dearly hoping that she hadn't wandered off to some other site or hadn't mistook a trap for momentary safety, she let her guard down.

And the sight that beckoned to her was impeccable.

It seemed that, under the wall of degradation and lifelessness, she had stumbled upon a hidden oasis that seemed to be a complete antipode of that. It'd seemed to be its own sect of the entire forest itself, around the size of an entire floor of the Mystery Shack; the grass beneath her bearing a hyacinthine hue, the presence of fantastical and unrecognisable vegetation also affected by the same colour, as well as a keen hallucinogenic-like scent in the air made for the entire atmosphere of the place to invoke a whimsical and magical aura. With her eyes darting through everything before her, she couldn't help but be ensnared by the picturesque nature with mouth and eyes wide open. But then, after her wonder dissipated, she quickly took notice of what had really seemed to be the pulsating, beating heart of the locale - the entrance to a _cave_ that was evidently larger than anything else there.

The girl shuddered at the dreadful sight of it, its oval-shaped opening embedded in a plateau the height of which was uncertain due to it having been shrouded vastly by the nearby trees' daunting and engulfing crowns. Despite emitting an uncomfortable sensation, the entrance still seemed a part of - or at least linked with - the entire oasis. Only small rays of sunlight were able to cast an idea of the natural lustre of her surroundings and the inside of the cave itself; a shoddily bolted parchment of wood with writing strangely caught her eye.

Not having any other clue as to where to proceed, Mabel slowly approached it, fearful of what might dwell inside such a profound place. Suddenly, her steps were silenced by the foreboding whistle of a chill breeze, causing her to shudder and worry further. As she was nearing the entrance, visibly shaken yet still determined, out of the changed perspective she began to discern more and more defining features of the cave - its grey-coloured, drooping rock walls and small stalagmite formations that poked sporadically out from the ground. They only served to affirm her initial views on the cave's disposition. But therein she also saw something far more striking and, at the same time, relieving - it was _Matthew_ , finally.

But Mabel gasped at the sight of the boy: he lay in a heap next to the wall of the entrance - a bit into the actual cave itself - clearly injured and shaken from his egregious fall. He held a hand to his shoulder, and the scraps of cloth she had found from his shirt on the hillside were glaringly absent from it. His knees were also stiff and bruised, with one of them even slightly bloodied and tattered. For a short while, she was simply stunned and the sight made her wonder how badly Matthew must have fallen as to be so seemingly crippled.

"Oh my gosh!" she suddenly shrieked, swinging back to reality and quickly darting towards the entrance, allowing him to also notice her.

"M-Mabel?" he muttered in shock, turning his head and opening his eyes, not believing neither them or his ears as the girl quickly entered the cave.

"Are you okay?! What happened?" she asked with a heavy frown as she knelt to him.

"I, uh, took a fall," he replied in a slightly ironic sense, his voice hoarse. "Well, because something tripped me."

"You… _tripped_?"

"Hey, it's not that surprising!" he retorted with a sheepish grin. "I mean, you did it today, too."

Mabel only rolled her eyes at that, diffusing her annoyance, still relieved that her outburst hadn't caused any serious repercussions for her partner. She couldn't help but notice his sudden change in temperament and mood - had he gone through some epiphany, she wondered? Or was it just the surge of shock from having someone come back for him - something he had clearly not expected?

"C'mon, Matt, let me help you up…" she said, stretching out her hand and deciding to dwell upon that thought later.

"Yeah, well, if you haven't noticed, I don't like these woods," began Matt, grabbing it and forcing a laugh. "Neither do they seem to like me," he finished as he suddenly winced in pain despite having fully risen. Mabel quickly saw that it was due to his knee injury.

"Are you gonna be able to walk that off?" she inquired with visible concern in her eyes.

"I think so," he responded. "Hey, how did you find me, anyway?"

"Oh, I followed your clothes!"

"You did… what?"

"Well, okay, I followed the huuuge trail of dirt you left on that hill too," she added, not easing Matthew's confusion in her rather convoluted phrasing. "But mostly your shirt!"

"I… see? Still, eh… thanks. For coming back," he revealed with a small smile of gratitude.

Mabel simply giggled, feeling appreciated.

"No problem, Matt-io! Come on, Grunkle Stan is gonna wonder where we've been and what's, uh… happened to you," she gestured and began walking towards the exit, with him slowly limping behind in acceptance. He hoped he would get a chance to apologise to her sometime soon about his accusations.

And he would.

Suddenly, the ground shook. And it did so wildly, almost instantly knocking both of the adolescents down in the seismic wave, with Matthew barely managing to protect his knee from another hardy impact. Several more waves followed suit, with fearsome rumbling sounds accompanying them - all having originated from the caverns below. As either of them attempted to recover and pinpoint the source of the earthquake and the sounds, turning over to each other in the wake of an explanation, they were distracted by the more sudden and imminent danger: the increasingly-dwindling light in the cave. It wasn't until Mabel had managed to stabilise herself by using the wall as a leverage that, diverting her gaze to the entrance, she realised what had been occurring all along. The spontaneous earthquake had managed to cause a _landslide_ , with rocks surely tumbling all the way from the plateau and hitting the entire field, as well as the cave opening itself, causing it to be blocked and what little light had shone through it to dim away.

"Woah!" yelped Mabel as a giant boulder suddenly hit the opening and landed right in front of her, snapping her out of her dazed state.

"Get back!" shouted Matt, pulling her away from the entrance of the cave. "It's a landslide!"

"How? We didn't do anything!"

"I don't know, but stay still, because there's no getting out of here now!" he warned, standing close to her.

Even more waves pulsated through the caverns, causing both of the preteens to stumble to their knees once more. They nearly resonated with the entire hall itself out of their sheer intensity in frequency, the rampant vibrations managing to shock and ring through both of the preteens' ears as well as succeed in amplifying the landslide's ferocity.

Both knew something other than a normal earthquake had been at work but they couldn't be fully certain, as they had yet to take in the full gravity of the situation at hand. In their eyes, it felt as if the whole world - writhing and contorting - was about to draw its last, shaky breath and plunge everything into oblivion.

And then, there it was: one final shock, one final scream, one final quake, one final boulder to leave out any possibility of escape, and it suddenly all turned to **black**.

It was just them and the darkness left. Matthew, knocked down, unnervingly awaited what was about to succumb both of them and closed his eyes in defeat.

But then, in the moment of utter desperation, there was no other quake - no matter how much either of them revelled in the expectation of one - because they had truly ceased. It seemed that whatever caused them was content with what it had brought upon Mabel and Matthew and its role as a catalyst in their already precarious circumstance.

"Are you okay?" asked Matt in the nothingness with a dry voice that echoed through the enormous tunnel, having been the first to become cognizant of their momentary safety.

"Yeah, but I can't see anything!"

"Well," he groaned, having attempted once more to stand up, but to no avail. "I can't, either… where are you exactly?"

"Here!" she shouted, trotting to him under the guide of his voice. "Right next to you!"

He turned around and felt her presence, quite happy to realise that he wouldn't have to deal with the current situation by himself.

"Oh," he replied with a sigh of relief. "Hey, uh… do you mind giving me a hand again? Sorry, it still hurts a bit..."

But Mabel didn't respond - Matthew couldn't tell why as the familiar black void hampered his eyesight fully, but he still _knew_ she had been next to him, so her silence came as an even stranger occurrence.

"Uh, Mabel?"

"Oh!" she said, sparking back to reality. "Yeah, sure, but can you tell me what those weird things on your wrist are?"

"Things on my what?" asked Matthew, blinking in confusion. He brought his hand up to his face to investigate and immediately realised what she had inquired about: it seemed that the enigmatic runes on the trinket he had chosen from the gift shop - his watch - had begun illuminating a ring of bright, cyan-coloured fluorescent light, with each segment of light on the band representing the runes' discernable shapes.

"This… this is my watch. Remember?"

"Your…" she wondered, her puzzled expression slightly revealed by the glow of the watch. "Oh! Your watch! The one you got from the gift shop!"

Matthew only nodded in response, uncertain if she could even notice it.

"Well, that's good and all," he began with skepticism evident in his voice. "And really strange. But, um… these runes don't give out a lot of light."

"Hmm…" pondered Mabel, trying to figure out a way to better their situation. "Can you try something on it? Maybe there's a switch or something!"

"I kinda doubt that, Mabel…"

"You can't be sure if you don't try!"

Matthew paused for a moment. "Fine," he said, rolling his eyes. "Let's see if this works…"

He began fidgeting with the sturdy glass that protected the clockwork inside as well as the various hidden locks and indents around the case, most of which, he comforted himself, were surely not for anything else than the precise adjustment of the time showcased or for accessible maintenance of the watch itself. He was unsure of what else he would accomplish through his toying except the possible ruin of the only light source they had and an utter waste of time.

Yet his fingers suddenly touched upon the crown, something he hadn't paid mind to before. Seeing as it had really been the only part of the mysterious gadget he had any vague resemblance of, not expecting much, he slowly and carefully began twisting it.

And at that, the light began seeping into the dial of the watch itself, spreading through its circumference and area at the same pace from both ends of the rune-covered band, therein fully confirming Matthew's firsthand remarks about the watch's mysticality. Both of them glared at the process, speechless. Eventually, turning the crown as much as he could, it fully encompassed the dial and coalesced into a much more concentrated and powerful luminescence.

"Oh, you've gotta be joking…" muttered Matt, breaking the silence.

"So much for doubt, huh Matt?"

He only shot a glare at her, certain that she would notice it given the newfound radiance of the cave.

"Ooh, do you think it glows like that just in the dark?"

"I don't know. I've had this thing for only a couple of days," he replied, attempting once more to rise to his feet yet still inadvertently suffering some hiccups in doing so.

"Whoa, hey, take it a bit easier, Matt," she ushered, offering her hand once more. He hesitantly took it and easily finished getting up. "Sorry, I kinda got distracted by the watch."

The gadget itself, after Matthew's tinkering, had become bright enough to reveal most of their surroundings and for both of them to finally be able to distinguish one-another. The illumination had come not only as a source of utmost relief, but as a means to evaluate their current circumstance. Mabel noticed that the boy looked the same, if not slightly more rugged than when she had found him, although she herself had also shared in some of his inflictions as well, which barred her from really pointing them out to him in a lightweight manner.

"Okay…" he began, the ambient sounds becoming far too unnerving for him. "Now that we got that cleared out of the way, do you know where the heck we are?"

"No idea… but we're definitely stuck. Do you even know how big this place is?"

Matthew, taken aback by the abruptness of that question, racked his brain for an answer.

"Actually, there was a really bent out sign at the front that had '1mi' written on it. I saw it while, er… crawling to here."

She thought for a few moments as the specifics to his description felt known to her. "Hey… wait," she said, remembering the sign she had paid no mind to beforehand. "I think… I think I also saw it!"

Matt nodded, feeling the chill of the cave beginning to fully affect his body. "Come on, let's get going… I've got a bad feeling about this place," he stated, dashing forward.

"Wait, w-where?" asked Mabel, her voice cracking in worry at the prospect of exploring the caverns.

"Only way is down, Mabel. Let's just hope there's something to guide us."

Despite having sprung forward with the watch tied to his wrist, he could still sense her apprehension and the evident frown upon her face.

"Mabel," he began. "I know today hasn't been good and, well, that's an understatement. I know it's my fault, but please just… _trust me_ on this, okay?" he pleaded, taking a shaky breath. "I saw it and both of us know what it means, so it's either this or trying to move those boulders."

She knew he was right. There was no other alternative to their current dilemma - they had to go deeper into the cave if they ever had a chance of even escaping it. But despite that, could she really wholeheartedly trust in him after all that had happened that day? Could she really take his word on something so important without even a kindled fire of regret?

But was she really in a position to do so; was she really about to doom them both just to prove a point? It had really been a choice of two lesser evils, but she wasn't convinced which had been which.

Yet still, somehow, Matthew's words now served to enamour her in deliberation. She noticed that his varied body language and rhetoric pointed to the fact that he had… **changed** from when last they had spoken. She couldn't put her finger on it - maybe something from her pathos-driven speech had gotten through to him, or she herself saw how much she had really begun to care for the boy, and, now she thought, he for her as their experiences that day grew to newfound heights. And it was therein she realised that, in truth, not only she, but both of them were incredibly impacted by what had occurred, and that the shared struggle in reaching a balance, the mutual strife in establishing an understanding even after everything that had befallen them, was nothing if not a testament to the inexplicable dedication they both had toward each other.

It was that realisation alone that proved a solid enough reason for her to now finally place her faith in him.

"Okay, Matt…" she said with a sigh, diverting her gaze from the ground and to his eyes. "I… trust you."

"Thanks, Mabel. I won't let you down. I… I promise."

The two began once more to walk side by side and navigate the caverns in silence. Their lack of communication had been more of a strategic choice, as both were on guard for anything that might have lurked in the otherwise narrow tunnel and waited to ambush them - and the eerie sound of water drops from stalactites hitting the floor, the dreary echo of their footsteps did not offer even a slight sense of security or reassurance themselves. It had seemed that they were far too tense to even consider attracting any more attention to themselves than they already had through their lengthy conversations. And that was almost surely for the better, thought Mabel, as they strode away.

As she scanned everything around her, she suddenly noticed a silhouette on the right wall out of the corner of her eye. She wasn't sure of its nature and she duly thought the unnatural light from the watch had simply fooled her, but something about it still felt amiss. In a short haze of deliberation, she decided to omit their unwritten rule for the possibility of unraveling something important.

"Hey, Matt!" signalled Mabel. "I think there's something pinned here!"

"Are you sure?" he questioned, glaring at her. His face bore a dubious expression.

"Yeah! I can feel it!"

He begrudgingly agreed to come by her with the light source, revealing what she had been fervently groping.

"Woah," said Mabel in astonishment as she pulled her hand away. "It's a… map! Of the cave!"

"You think someone's lived here?" inquired Matt, also unable to contain his awe. The map itself had been easy to read, as it had looked relatively modern and well-made. Despite that, it only really noted the singular pathway there had been to an exit of the cave; through the plateau, possibly, thought Mabel.

"I don't know… but I have a feeling this is gonna help us a lot."

"Well… the way to the exit looks pretty narrow and simple. Forward, left, forward, right," he transcribed. "Remember that."

"Sure will!" she replied with a smile.

Matthew reminded himself again how, even in such a place where peril had seemed constantly looming above them, Mabel had still managed to keep her sense of hope and not give into despair as he would have if he had been alone. Despite everything that had happened, he thought, he really did appreciate her company now. It seemed as if though, that day, the only people they had were each other, and now that had become especially evident.

"Let's hope the scale of the map isn't that much larger and that we won't be stuck here," added Matt, laying his hand once more on the wall and beginning to follow the new directions. Mabel, now feeling joyous that things were beginning to look up and that her observations had been fruitful, ambled after the boy.

Although having possibly put their safety at risk with their observations, she somehow felt enticed to continue their short conversation, as a means to break the ice, she argued. But in reality, she did not care to admit that, given their newfound temperance with each other, she had wanted a burning question finally answered. It was one that had managed to burrow itself into the back of her mind ever since she had first set eyes on Matthew in the gift shop. And now, her patience ran thin.

"So, hey..." she whispered. "Matt, can I ask you something?"

"Uh… okay? If it's about where we're go-"

"How did, um, Stan… really hire you?"

He stopped in his tracks upon assimilating the question, unbeknownst to Mabel that Dipper had put forth the same to him before, albeit in a slightly different manner. He nearly decided upon answering the same way he had her brother - with a vague and unclear allusion to a convoluted past. But, he wondered, wasn't seeing the result of such blatant _lies_ in the form of losing Stan's trust not a sign that there had been no point in hiding away the truth about himself anymore? If not because of anybody else's judgement but his own? Is that not really what constantly bars him from behaving akin to anyone his age and what instills the protective and nature that, today, served only as a catalyst for the horrid turn of events?

He took a deep breath, seeing that his strive for secrecy had become a fruitless labour, "I guess anyone can see that having your parents pay Stan so you can work for him is the stupidest lie ever…"

She nodded, recalling the time he had told her that back when they had first met in the bathroom the evening they arrived in Gravity Falls.

Matthew sighed in return. "Well… it's kind of a long story. For starters, I'm really not the person you think I am. I'm… a nobody," he revealed with a shaking tremor in his voice, back faced against the girl.

"W-what do you mean?"

"I'm an orphan, Mabel," he finally confessed, turning to meet her gaze. "I have no idea where my parents are or even who they might be. About a month ago, when I… I was running away from another one of those dumb families they put you with, I saw the Shack. S-Stan… took me in and… and..."

"A-and what?" asked Mabel, dazed by the pity she had inadvertently felt for the boy.

Despite feeling his heart beginning to swell, he continued, "After that, I did a lot of stupid stuff, but he- Stan, still somehow believed in me. B-because of him, I felt happy for the first time since… ever."

Mabel only gawked in utter disbelief, a wave of surprise and shock flushing over her.

"But… no matter what I do, I'll always be the odd one out: 'that weird foster kid that no one likes.' Even Stan thought of me like that today. So... I don't even know what's the point," he said, his voice weak and sore. "I don't know what to do when it's so clear that no one wants someone like me in their life..."

And a frightful reticence momentarily enveloped both of them. The impact of Matthew's revelations left her at a loss for words - at a loss of how she could not have connected his odd behaviour as a hint for something far more troubled and ominous beforehand.

"That… that's not true, Matt!" she suddenly exclaimed, breaking the silence and sparking a glance from the boy. She approached him, putting her hand on his shoulder, "You **are** someone! Dipper told me you were the only one that believed his crazy theories the other day! You were the only one who thought he wasn't weird like the bullies back home made him think! And… well, you're the first person from here I really met and talked with! So… you **have** made a difference! And that's just with me and Dipper to start with!"

For a brief moment, he only stood there, unable to register Mabel's perception of him as a truly candid one. Despite the validity of the examples she had brought up, he did not see how several deeds of camaraderie out of what had seemed to be a never-ending slew of disappointment and vice would acquit him of the prejudice he had been constantly subject to even by people he trusted.

"I-I can't change who I am to others, Mabel…"

"But so what if your parents were jerks? That doesn't mean you're one, too! Heck, you're a gazillion times better!"

"I-I don't know…" he mumbled, beginning to see her point, even if slightly. "How can you even be sure- _believe_ in me after everything that's happened today?"

Taking her hand away from his shoulder, she immediately knew how to answer his question:

"Because you're my **friend** , Matt!"

It took time for those words to not only reach his ears, but for him to also deconstrue their meaning. He wasn't sure if he had even heard properly at first, or if Mabel had really put forth such a seemingly inconceivable notion. He had never thought that anybody would ever view him as anything even close to a friend - not to mention as exactly that and by someone his own age. But then again, he remembered, that nihilistic outlook was the result of a mantra his vicious foster families had managed to instill into his very conscience and what, in actuality, had made Mabel's words feel so foreign and surreal. But that made him ask - how? How, then, was he supposed to react?

Truth be told, he had no idea. He was stuck.

"I… I dunno..." he finally muttered out. "Because I wouldn't even want myself as a friend. So… _why_ do you bother?"

She could feel his pessimism and uncertainty, but she also saw it her ultimate task to clear away those doubts once and for all - whether through it she attracted some horror from the cave or brought her friend low: it did not matter.

"Friends don't care about where you're from or who your parents are, Matt. They care about _what_ you are as a person, and… and that's why we bother! Why do you think Stan took you in even though he didn't know you at all? Why do you think Soos told me that you're the only person he has any fun talking with?" she rhetorically asked, with Matthew's eyes widening at the her revelation. "It's because they all see you're different than 'just a weird foster kid' - you're better, and they believe that!"

Again, he stood still, a stoic aura complementing his daunting unresponsiveness. Yet inwardly, he was experiencing the exact opposite of that reflected in his disposition - a feeling of awe at Mabel's statements had barely managed to suffuse his sordid ignorance, or what she would most definitely view as a sense of denial. But so what if Soos and Stan had inexplicably found a reason to do and say all of that? What did they have to do with her proclaiming someone like him as a 'friend'?

"And… why do you think I wanted to help you today?" she continued, feeling a lump in her throat choking out her words. "I… I just wanted to get to know you because… I believe in you, too."

And, as if on cue, it was that final sentence that not only both disproved and answered Matthew's questions, but, most of all, shocked him to his very core, more than he would ever like to admit. Yet still, despite feeling overwhelmed, he could not find the inner will to free himself of that belaugering feeling of inferiority. Maybe because now hadn't been the time? A confused state of mind and focus on such intangible eccentrics would only serve to hamper their progress in escaping even more than it already had.

He simply was not ready. He met her glass eyes, a result of welled tears.

"I know you wanna help me, and I'm grateful for that. And I'm sorry if I've let you down. But... trust me, I don't think I'd be a good friend. So," he continued, taking a shaky breath. "If I've answered your question, let's just go on because we're really falling behind."

Although she herself did technically feel satisfied with the answer she had received, in lieu of the calming wave of reprieve that had flushed over her resonated an odd, seeping worry. Its origin in her mind, she believed, was surely traced back to the harrowing suspicion she had felt rising in prominence whilst refuting the boy's fallacious statements. And that doubt, too, had stemmed from an initial fear of hers - a lingering feeling that Matthew might had been entirely unaffected or, at best, only momentarily wooed by the change she had attempted to invoke in his thoughts. In his eyes, simply setting aside her words and forgetting as if their exchange had happened would seem to be the best course of action, but for her, it would act as nothing less than a testament to his venomous stagnation and lack of will to better himself in the face of such utmost need.

Yet she slowly realised that belief - that striking possibility - had been almost surely spurred on by her witnessing the effects of the experiences her peer had reiterated: his own constant retreading to a comfort zone laden with false self-presumptions and illicit convictions; something that would only occur habitually in a person who has had his entire persona seemingly smothered and levelled with the ground itself. But then again, she wondered, could she really be sure that was what had served to pull him away - as if a rip current - from the shores that equated the acceptance of a fruitful friendship? Could she really blame Matthew's past as the reason for her own fear to had been birthed in her conscience in the first place, or had that simply been an excuse for her to justify fighting for a hopeless cause? Moreso, could she herself be able to alter the mentality of someone like him, whose experiences had coalesced in a total dejection from any meaning of family or trust?

That was, in truth, why she did not feel Matt's answer to her query calming - it had been so unnervingly close, yet still so far off from allowing her to succinctly deduce any conclusion. Either way, she hoped she would become cognizant of the truth by the time they both managed to finally escape their accursed prison.

"Ugh…" he growled suddenly, putting a hand to his stomach and breaking Mabel out of her thoughts.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. It just kinda stings…" he said, gesturing to his knee.

"Matt, I'm not a biologist, but I don't think knee pain comes with rumbling in your stomach."

His muscles instinctively tensed at that, clearly due to the reprimand for his absurd excuse out of Mabel's seemingly needless pedantry and prudence.

"Alright," he confessed. "I'm just kinda hungry. Nothing to stop for, though."

"Wait," she said, ignoring his false reassurance. "I brought this," she revealed, bringing out something Matthew could only discern as some sort of snack from her knit sweater pocket.

"You… you'd share it with me?" he asked, enveloped in a struggle between incredulity and, to some degree, a stinging familiar fear. It was the same one that had solely guided his actions in his first days in Gravity Falls, birthed once more out of his struggle to accept what Mabel had revealed to him regarding his identity; or his perception of it, moreso.

"Of course, dummy! We're in this together, after all," she reaffirmed, placing the snack in his palm. "Plus, I always bring emergency Mabel-waffles. Or, as it's known on the sticker, M'waffles! Original, right?"

Matthew could not help but chuckle at that, amused by Mabel's creativity. His surprise grew tenfold when he saw that she had actually gone through the effort to rename the otherwise relatively normal food article.

"Thanks…" he told her with an earnest smile, still eyeing her show of cleverness and feeling that fear dissipate ever-so slightly. Mabel noticed it through the incandescence of his watch, also forgetting, if even only momentarily, about their current predicament. "And for... believing in me, even if I can't."

She only returned a pleasant nod, feeling slightly more hopeful and lenient regarding her dilemma, even if she could not be fully certain of Matt's intentions.

And so, they finally continued their eventful stride, with the only sound suffusing through the depths being the boy's bashful munching and the occasional inquiry he had towards Mabel regarding their hastily-derived directions. Both journeyed for what seemed to be nearly an hour in the malignant nether and their calm slowly began to dissipate, again being replaced with the disheartening fright of the restless shadows and endless decadence that had pervaded through every nook and cranny of the cave. They would have begun to worry even further had it not been for the sporadic and odd appearances of various guiding tools and traces of civilization: wooden and painted arrow signs, most of all. Although they served as a sense of relief and as helpful reminders, some of their surfacing in the glow of the duo's light source did cause them to second-guess their predetermined path, for the instructions inscribed on the walls had differed from the ones they had followed up to that point.

Yet still, even after Mabel's highlighting of that and her subsequent attempts to diverge from their plan - arguing that whoever put up those signs surely had a better understanding of the vast tunnel network they were currently navigating - in response, Matt simply reminded her of the promise she had made to him. The promise to trust in his abilities to lead them together to an exit; to somewhere where the dimming rays of the setting Sun, glistening through the twilit evergreens, would also be able to stream upon their insipid flesh and freedom would finally be theirs to reap. It was interesting and surprising for Mabel to hear that - to see how much both had discreetly yearned for going back to before they were in their current situation only in the face of true peril. Yet finally, seeing his display of both determination and resolve in paving the way for their escape, she yielded her point. It was admirable and joyous for her to see him in such a light where he took the initiative.

And he had been correct, as soon thereafter they came upon something far different. At first, both were not sure what to make of the enlarged pathway littered with extinguished torches and pools of liquefied clay, the latter puzzling Matt as to its very existence. Mabel instinctively grabbed hold of her companion's arm in a plea for reassurance, and he returned the grasp, also feeling a deafening sense of dread emitted by their surroundings. The pair collectively held their breath, not knowing what to expect further. Admittedly, they were afraid for their very lives, yet also strong in the bond both had unknowingly created with their reliance on one-another in the darkest of the depths.

Then, they finally saw it: a gate. Its towering, sapphire coloured double doors, each with half of an oval repeatedly carved precisely through the middle, creating therein a series of concentric uneven rings - the outer ones not even fully finished. The central ring, unsurprisingly, had been the bearer of the smallest circumference and seemingly most insignificant, yet it was the one meticulously emblazoned with gemstones of various colours, forming too the shape of fervent and primal eyes in the centre of the seemingly benign gate. The preteens were taken aback by the chilling sight of it as they sensed the pupils gazing into every fibre of their souls; still they resisted the urge to admit it. The decorated doors were without handles, slightly indented, with the sturdy frame engraved in the encompassing granite and seeping with luscious and overgrown ivy from every noticeable crack. Matthew wondered how flora could still thrive in a place such as this, but he knew better than to question Gravity Falls' oddities, even on a subterranean level, although he was confident that it alluded to the antiquity of the gate and whatever it guarded behind it.

It was clear that this centerpiece of the cave and their path, as tall as both of them combined, was something they would have to go through to continue. Matthew was the first to break from their grip and edge closer.

"That is one big door," he stated as he guided his hand upon its rough form, the reflection from his watch and the door's colour slightly blinding him, yet still allowing him to better inspect. "Wood. Again."

"That… looks scary," Mabel added, gesturing to the eyes' ruby pupils. "What do you think it means?"

"Probably made for people like us… to scare them away," he proposed in an equally serious and jesting manner. "Well, we're not gonna get any further by just standing here," he said, leaning on the left door.

"Wait! W-what are you gonna do?"

"Don't worry," he replied, deciding to place his ear on the refined timber before proceeding further as to scan for any distinct noises. Having exercised this tactic before in his many attempts to escape from foster families, after a while he knew something felt amiss: it was the absence of as much as a tone from the opposite end. Usually, that meant the area had been safe to traverse, but now, the lack of even a hollow breeze to whistle through the wood and its many narrow fissures confused him to a veritable degree. Still, that would mean that the presence of any other inhabitants would be very unlikely, and he decided quickly on his next course of action. "I'm just gonna take a peek."

Mabel looked shaken and distressed. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"There isn't much else we can do, though, is there?"

She brought up a finger in a desire to protest, yet realised his point and, with a defeated expression, rested her case. She let him be.

As Matthew pushed with a strong portion of his might, the door responded with the creaking of old, primitive hinges and the rustling of foliage, yet the progress he made was minimal and his limits nearly reached out of the effort taken to even notice the billows of dust swirling in the air and over his soiled clothes.

"Let me help you," insisted Mabel as she now inched towards the obstacle.

Matt stood there, quietly huffing and puffing, wondering whether to heed her wish. His own recent pragmatism and willingness to lead hadn't been a byproduct of any evoked hubris or naïveté, but simply an odd sensation he was not used to experiencing; one he desperately tried to quell from ever being present in his actions. That drive, that _urge_ to protect or even put himself in in the face of the people he valued was the true reason. But that was impossible, he thought; Mabel couldn't have been right about him, or so he told himself.

Not long after, Mabel arrived next to him and, glancing to her, he felt being fiercely anchored back to reality and his own foolishness. Yet deep down, he did not resist her help; he knew his limits, or at least thought so. Both steadied themselves and, after an admittedly easier struggle for Matt and an arduous one for Mabel, they were able to create an opening large enough to gaze through.

"I can see it's some room, but… I'm not sure what it is. It's big and… looks kinda off," he whispered, peering. "I… I guess we have to open it."

"Aw, I was afraid you'd say that. We could've gone through there if we'd both believed!"

He chuckled at that, strangely finding Mabel's sarcasm funny and relieving. "Sure, go and blame _my_ pessimism. Is that what you do with Dipper all the time?"

"Put the blame on Dipper? Pshhhh, how could you _possibly_ think that?" she asked rhetorically and almost immediately after, unable to control the chain of irony further, let out a heartfelt snicker that quickly transgressed into laughter. He, too, responded with the same, albeit slightly more timidly. "And I'll have you know that it's more of a I-blame-him-today-he-blames-me-tomorrow kinda thing!"

The two vividly knew that what their raucous laughter hadn't purely been the result of any attempt to relieve the tension, but of the surprise that came from experiencing a conversation most would've thought only possible if they had known each other well. Or, as Matt was beginning to slowly see - like friends. As such, they were beyond elated to have shared this small moment of serenity and purity in the midst of the danger and profanity around them, for they knew that a mutual optimism was the only thing that would be able to keep them going.

"Welp," the boy finally stammered, having felt much more confident. He knew that whatever they were to now uncover, that they would face it together. Truly, and much to his own confusion, that revelation heralded a sense of calm even in light of his desire to guard his accomplice. "Ready when you are."

After a few seconds, feeling the same mix of anticipation and worry, she took a deep breath and - with a determined expression - answered, "Ready."

With that, the pair fiercely pressured the dual doors and soon, as the seemingly omnipotent mosaic eyes became separated and their own physical exertion evident, they were able to create a gap wide enough to enter through. Yet the new area they stepped in quickly allowed them to overcome any symptoms of their tired state, for it had been nothing short of utterly grandiose and vast, or as far as that could have been achieved in the canvas that had been offered by the dreary cave. Despite their shock, attributed to the fact that neither had seen such a brightly lit and vacuous segment of the cave before, Matthew and Mabel were quick to note that the hall had been segregated into two. One's eyes instinctively darted to the gleaming and sparkling lake, with water still clean and untainted, that expanded over a large part of the landscape, while the other's, with an insatiable curiosity to what surrounded it - a lush meadow with familiar and exotic plant life cascading it. Matthew placed his hand on the rough dark soil before him with a hundred questions still racing in his mind as to how such a phenomenon was even conceivable; a fully-lit and lively sanctuary with no sign of human interference to exist _here_ , of all places. He was caught eyeing between both landmarks while still frozen alongside Mabel. She herself had seen some of the specimens outside, in the oasis, which was the reason for the massive body of water catching her eye more than the recognisable indigo field and for her apathy towards it. The same blue hue lit up every spot imaginable as malformed stalagmites and stalactites again sprouted from both the finite edges of the hall and the bleak, obtuse ceiling, with the cave aesthetic from the latter proving a stark contrast to the site's rich nature and vigour.

All in all, despite their weariness, the locale proved, without hesitance for Mabel, to exceed the evoked awe and picturesque of what she had seen around the imposing entrance of their current prison, and for Matt, to still be as shocking. It was as if they had entered another dimension or were not some hundred feet below sea level.

Finally, having snapped out of her stupor, Mabel, pertaining to her amiable personality, graciously trailed ahead to whatever specifics she found notable and worthy of her attention.

"Woaaah! Look at all of this, Matt!" she gazed, first waddling to the lake, the opposite bank almost indistinguishable due to its engulfing and encompassing width. "Isn't it amazing?"

"Y-yeah…" he confirmed, close by, with eyes wide open. Only now did he realise how long it had taken for both of them to be broken from the hall's mystical allure, as he noticed something that piqued his interest. "But why is the grass like this?"

"Didn't you get used to it already? Outside, too?"

"No…?"

"Huh. Oh! You probably rolled through it!" she theorised while mercilessly plucking out many of the nearby attractive flowers.

With a smile, he rolled his eyes, unable to refute the extreme likelihood of her theory. His wounds, having slowly healed as they had explored the depths, even made him forget about his tumble, hence his uncertainty regarding whether he had truly noticed the grass' colour. "Sure. What are you doing, anyway?"

"Oh, this? Getting stuff for my Summer scrapbook, dummy!"

"Summer… scrapbook?"

"Ah, I see you aren't aware of my ongoing project!"

He shook his head.

"You see, child, it all began in the cold, cold winter of two-thousand-and-two on the twelfth of December when little Mabel first saw a teensy-tiny bottle of glue-"

"Wait," he hastily interrupted, diffusing Mabel's desire to derail into a long and detailed soliloquy. "I, uh… I don't know what a _scrapbook_... is."

"Ah! Why didn't you say so? Um…" she paused. "Imagine it like a photo album, but with stuff instead of boring old photos! And that stuff is also sometimes boring old photos, so it's like… a photalbook!"

He stood, still bewildered, while also having somehow imagined the article in question. Something didn't add up for him nonetheless.

"But why would you need something like that?"

She stopped her search and glanced at Matt with a slight frown. "It's… to keep memories of Gravity Falls and everyone there. Plus, these little rascals are gonna be the first thing I really add to it!"

 _Memories,_ he thought. There were not... many he had found notable or pleasant enough to dwell on, not to mention even attempt to gather memoirs for a collection. He felt at odds with her confusing and alienating convictions and, to some extent, even envious of their unwavering presence in her conscience. How was such a life where a carefree attitude and a pervasive philanthropism had both managed to thrive even when subject to numerous strikes of the searing palm of utter injustice at all _possible_? After all, fate still did not reveal if his stay in Gravity Falls would really be permanent or if all of his hope and the effort that had gone into asserting himself had simply been a fluke. That was also part of the reason why he never let blissful complacency take over and why it took so long for him to even trust Stan.

"Hope you gather a lot stuff then," he said in a rueful tone.

She quickly noticed it.

"Y'know, the memories are also for people I've been with," she mentioned with a gaze towards Matt. "I told you, that's really why I'm getting all of this stuff. I want to remember everyone I've been with in this crazy town! And… caves by the looks of it..."

He returned a small chuckle. "Even if some of the memories won't be as good as the others? Even if some of them… I dunno, break your heart?"

"Well, I know there won't be any like that!"

Matthew took a deep breath. "I guess you're gonna be making an exception with this one."

"Why?"

He remained silent. The parasitic voice in his mind urged him to blurt that out - to dig himself into a deeper hole and continue his arguing instead of just riding the wind and leaving his mixed relationship with Mabel as it were. But why, then, in spite of that, did he say anything at all…?

"I…" he muttered. "I don't really know why I said that…"

She looked concerned.

"Matt…" she urged closer. She touched his shoulder in a way only either a proud or concerned parent would. Hers was a mix of both. "Today, _this_ entire gosh-darn day was the most thrilling and fun adventure I've had from any Summer or my life! And I mean the fights we had, too, 'cause they brought us here and we got to see this _amazing_ place! Even in my wildest daydreaming back in Piedmont with Dipper I wouldn't have thought of something like this! I don't know why you don't think it's… it's worth remembering."

The boy stood still. She wasn't saying much that he didn't already know of, nor did she clear his doubt away.

"And…" she continued. "I'm not joking when I say that loving this town and everyone here includes… you."

There it was - more salt poured on his open wound. It was the one he had purposefully ignored treating and, truly, had been the most painful of all: denial. Deep in his mind, Mabel's words still echoed; he didn't understand their meaning, he didn't even know why they stuck with him, yet they penetrated every part of his soul as hard as any needle ever could and with a force to match that of any misguided outburst of his. In his own heart, the tumult of an ideal future and the ringing of a blissful reality reverberated through the hardened tissue of his false pessimism.

It was through this disconnect that Matthew believed Mabel. He had hope that, in his memory, this place and his actions would not be the last; that he would not allow either of them to get hurt no matter the cost. A sense of irrevocable dread at a possible failure still filled him, though it was quickly diffused by the flushing wave of astonishment and rekindled meaning - a meaning to put his pride aside and truly, _fully_ make it up to the person he had hurt so much through his stoicism and apathy.

He finally found that he had more in common with Mabel than he had ever thought before. It was a perplexing realisation: to think that he wouldn't be thrown aside or forgotten like his foster brothers had tended to do with him. A sense of jovial and gleeful wonder overcame him at the fact that he had finally found someone who didn't look down on him and wouldn't remember him simply out of a forlorn pity; he would be _known_ and _accepted_ for whom he was. It proved to be a strangely comforting and equally unbelievable thought to keep in mind.

Somehow, he was ready.

He would finally give his all.

"Welp," Mabel began, purposefully dropping the topic. "I'm done anyway! Now come on, let's find a way outta here!"

He returned a pleasant nod, also compliant. "Guess only way to go is through there," he said, noting the cut paved path in the middle of the field that stretched over the end of the hall.

"Lead the way, captain!" she cheered.

Finally, feeling calm and collected in his thoughts, he did as instructed, and with the same unparalleled confidence and finesse he had awed Mabel for.

Not much happened as they were continuing to stroll through the lush plain. Some small turquoise hills stretched out next to the path, though it itself was encumbered by a den of trees, which did not allow for a perfect view most of the time. Nonetheless, their presence evoked the same whimsical feel one would have had instilled in them from strolling outside - near the entrance - as well, with the added chill of the cave breeze. The lake also proved to be a pleasant sight even from a distance, with the duo's attention mostly being centered around it and the other small landmarks. They did make a number of small stops out of curiosity to study the latter and due to Mabel's thirst to collect even more items of interest - despite having claimed that she had gathered enough for her ensemble - ranging from plant life once more to small, odd sculptures of mythical avatars they found them near other totem-like constructs. Unsurprisingly, the totems themselves had the same despondent scarlet eyes carved out on the top. Were all of these some form of tribute to a pantheon worshipped by the inhabitants, Matthew wondered? He noticed that, unlike the other worn relics depicting deities, the clay on all of the objects endowed with the fiery eyes had not decayed, which irked the possibility of someone still dwelling in the caverns; someone they surely would not want to encounter.

"Hey, um, Mabel?" suddenly piped up Matt as they were in the middle of yet another fateful stop. Mabel herself had once again strayed away from the general direction they had been following. "How are you planning to carry everything?"

"Matthew, don't you know that a girl's purse and pockets are virtually endless?"

He shot her a confused, but understanding look, for the first time hearing someone affirm the age-old telling. "Uh… good point, but I still think we should be going ahead. I think the way out is through there," he reaffirmed, pointing to the vague, yet noticeable change in the land's vigour back to its bleak form. Both canvases blended together, with the riveting blue managing to contrast the droll grey of the cave.

"Pfff, fine. Whatever you say, _mom_ ," she retorted, walking back to him. "But I don't think we would've found something as cool as this if we hadn't stopped!" She brought up yet another sculpture that depicted a literal lightning bolt somehow being fractured in the hands of a… strangely familiar creature with ruby eyes. He recognised the pupils with the ones on the gate, yet they were not the source of his wariness; something else felt off for him. "See, it's just like your shirt," she mentioned, pointing to the emblem embellished on it.

"Uh-huh…" he trailed, feeling rather unsettled at the imagery. "But it's kinda broken. And… disturbing."

"Welp, you can now accept this as my irrefusable gift or… yeah, accept my irrefusable gift!"

He rolled his eyes, simply wishing not to cause a commotion about something so mundane, and took it from her hand. "Are you sure we should be taking all of these things, though? They… they might belong to someone."

Mabel thought about objecting with a surefire sense of confidence, yet she thought about how much that did not help them up to now. "Hmm… maybe you're right." She then also realised how valid his point had been. "I-I'm sorry, I guess I got a bit carried away. I just wish we weren't trapped here so we could see everything."

Matthew sighed inwardly; he could relate to her. What they had stumbled on was undeniably entrancing and breathtaking, though he also had a gut feeling that it served to only be a deadly façade. He glanced at the statuette she had kind-heartedly given to him once more, a rueful pity overtaking him.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better, we… we can hopefully come back again someday?" he proposed in an attempt to brighten her mood. Mabel instantly noticed his change in perspective.

"I… I'd like that. A lot," she returned with a smile. "Hey, maybe we could get Dipper to come with us, too!"

"Sure, why not."

She paused, feeling grateful. "Thanks, Matt…"

He laughed. "No problem. And… thanks for the gift," he said. "Come on, let's keep going."

Finally, they continued their calm trek. It would seem to go by faster as they did not encounter anything more of much interest that Mabel could survey, which was, admittedly, a relief for Matt, since they had already stalled long enough. Though as they began crossing back into familiar territory - that of the actual cave - through the constantly deteriorating landscape, Matthew's eye caught something he could simply not ignore. As far as he could discern, to his far left was something akin to a sacred site or ground with misshapen boulders rising high. Before deciding whether to point it out, with a squint of his eyes, he analysed its most prominent features, all the while attempting not to incite any suspicion from Mabel. He noticed that the towering boulders had something… imbued or engraved on them. It was not fully clear to him, but it seemed to be some form of neolithic writing coupled with vague and crude illustrations. The entire lot was also devoid of any activity or, for that matter, _any_ sign of life, yet despite that it only stretched near the border of the field, never touching the other side whence it looked more alike; it was as if it were a blithering infection upon the very soul of the land - a sole reminder of something dark. There were the outlines of more details and objects of interest, but it was impossible to make them out from the distance he had scanned from.

After he decided that he had seen enough, he felt temptation linger in his judgment. Maybe this was some purposeful and sinister trap - their final straw? Or a means to help them escape, he thought. Or both. Either way, it did not seem as superficial or nonsensical as their previous findings, and it was not at such a distance where taking a slight detour would heavily inhibit their progress. At the very least, he knew that the illustrations would bring about something of value to their strife.

He decided he would see where his hunch would take them. In any case, he wouldn't allow it or his curiosity to take over in his pursuit to escape as fast as possible.

"H-hey," he said, his voice gruff for a moment. "Am I seeing things or is there something over there?" He pointed to what he had been perusing.

"Huh? Oh… oh yeah! Wonder what that is…"

"Look, there's a bunch of rocks with writing lined up there," he mentioned. "It's like that attraction Stan put up because he couldn't fake the actual Stonehenge. I think he called it the 'Stone Fence'? 'Stone Hedge'…? Yeah, the 'Stone Hedge.'"

"Thank you, Stan, for making surprise attacks on cute boys as easy as waiting for them in the bush!"

Matthew chuckled, amused at how at least one useful aspect had seemed to come as a result of Stan's uninspired exhibits. "Anyway, I think that we should at least check it out."

"But I thought you wanted to get out of here as soon as we could."

"I do. It's just that something seems… off about that place. Maybe it could help us, who knows?"

"Oh, Matt, 'maybes' won't settle anything! If you want to see it so much, then c'mon, let's get cracking!"

Surprised by her enthusiasm and lack of protest, he said, "Fine, then."

Both took off, all the while theorising as to what could lay at the site. Matthew proposed a sensible and logical explanation, although it was one not backed up by much confidence or certainty as he himself was not convinced of the credibility of his musings, in contrast to Mabel who put forth a more outlandish perspective on the matter, detailing fantastical backstories and transpired events unhinged by any veil of reason whatsoever. Yet, if either would be frank, both possibilities struck them as entirely conceivable even up to the point they finally set foot in the blighted land.

"Wow," began Matt. "I don't know why I thought it would look better up close." He walked up to the centre and stood before the soaring stones, trying to make sense of the illegible symbols before him while Mabel searched the perimeter. Very soon he came to the conclusion that attempting to draw out any sensible information from the hieroglyphs through intuition was a frivolous task, which diverted his attention to the paintings on the surface of the other boulders. Studying them, he very quickly realised how the same creature appeared once more; he even brought the talisman Mabel had given him up to his face to confirm, and the resemblance was uncanny. Again, it all reminded him of an unsettling memory. He thought it very well could have been something related to...

"HEY, look!" Mabel suddenly exclaimed, causing Matthew to jump in surprise and disperse his thought. She had been behind him all along.

"Did you _really_ need to shout it out?" he asked, facing her.

"Yes."

He shot her a soft glare. "Anyway, what is the amazing thing you found that was worth nearly rupturing my eardrums?"

"This," she said, handing a sizeable black notepad to him. It seemed to be well-preserved and durable, like the map they had used to guide them, thought Matt. "I couldn't read it because the guy or gal who wrote it obviously wasn't that good with handwriting!"

"Hmph." He took the item from her extended palm and shifted through the pages. Admittedly, it was difficult to read even the clearest of detailed paragraphs, but he could still tell that they were all written in English. As Matthew pored through nearly all of the pages, he stopped his search when he saw one with a peculiar table graphed out clearly and precisely in the midst of the sea of words. Instantly, he recognised the familiar symbols and their English alphabetical equivalent. "Wait a minute…" he said. "These symbols - they look just like the ones I've been trying to decode! And there's even a way to translate them!"

Mabel did a double take on both the pad and the inscriptions. "Hey… yeah, you're right!"

Matthew turned around. He eyed the cipher, and with the notepad now clasped in his hands, began to finally translate the text before him. Slowly, he began reading through it:

 _Eyes ablaze watching and seeing all_

 _Set themselves on you now,_

 _With sights beckoning, walls whispering_

 _And the starry sky remaining ever the humid ceiling,_

 _And the warm grass remaining ever the frigid rock_

 _Yet_

 _It stopped; ceased to be._

 _For_

 _There it was,_

 _Finally._

 _The Savior._

 _Guarding from what came, from what willed harm,_

 _A life without quarrel, without care_

 _With a stalwart decorum reign,_

 _It was:_

 _Peace._

 _But…_

 _For you..._

 _Now time sets itself against what is left,_

 _Do find all that you know and seek, remember and hear tales of folk_

 _Lest this cave be the marred tomb for all sacred and meek,_

 _And in own profligacy, own hubris drown_

 _The one right behind you shall_ _._

A chill immediately ran through both of their spines as they read out the last sentence. Mabel, fidgeting with her hands, nervously checked behind them, expecting the worst. Yet, thankfully, it was as calm as ever.

"I-I don't like this, Matt."

He gulped. "Looks like the message ends here…"

"What about the other pillars, though?" she asked, pointing to the ones that were paired with illustrations. "They've got something written on them, too!"

He darted his eyes. Seeing Mabel's point, he trudged to them, and she followed behind.

"You sure we want to go through with this?" he asked, ready to proceed, his eyes meeting her own. "I don't know if we really want to find out the truth about this place…"

She let out a deep sigh, and with a determination anchored only by a small tingle of fear in her gut, said, "Let's do it. You… you can't lose anything by knowing more, r-right?"

With a frown upon his face, Matt returned only a nod. He turned his glance to the secrets that lay before them.

"'When we first thought the gods had descended, we were as the rest - primitive, ancient, foolish," he uttered in a slow manner. "'But they believed us different: stronger and better. It is why they gave us the power to shape our home. And so it was; for centuries we stood, but only that. The name of our tribe - _Ashnor_.'"

"Heh, s-sounds like a lame nerd name from some lame nerd book," Mabel stated, attempting to make light of the situation.

Matthew only gave her a confused look at that and she returned an unnerved shrug.

"'We were renewed in the shape of the gods, and our name - chosen in respects to the ashes of our primordial forefathers. But as time swept, so did we waver from the power," he recited faster, having gotten used to the translation. "'We had angered the gods with our complacency. It was when doom for all us came, when we finally saw _them_ and _their_ vengeance, that… **another** emerged.'" He looked up and saw a painting detailing a divine descent foiled by the profanity of searing claw marks. It didn't take him long to realise that the supposed 'savior' they had deified was actually the beast, and that the various artistic tributes the two found were of not one, but _two_ pantheons.

Mabel rubbed her arm apprehensively. "So… these gods? That- _thing_ got rid of them?"

"Looks like it. That would explain why the statues without the red eyes looked so old; they were dedicated to them… and it looks like the people here didn't want them."

She nodded slowly, not feeling that revelation at all comforting.

"'The One slew the gods and sought to the perseverance of us all in the depths of the Earth. It was a calm, better existence. And if any were to ever anger the One, be it from the tribe or the Others, it would unleash a fury that shook the ground and rippled the skies. Rock itself was undone when before the wrath of the One.'"

"But what does it mean? How can something like that make an earthquake so big?!"

"It says so here!" he remarked in astonishment, moving to the last of the stones, already having an idea of what it detailed. "'Even our Home's walls were only a resonator for the One to shake the Earth and ward off the Others; the Intruders from the Outside.'"

"Intruders?"

"Intruders…" he thought, connecting the dots. He glanced at the creature's figure one last time: the eerie familiarity was still omnipresent. His awe had moreso shrunk into suspicion and confusion as desperately, he tried to think of what it had all reminded him of. "Just… like…"

"...Us..." finished Mabel as she realised in what imminent danger they were, confirming Matthew's theory.

Yet it was only _then_ , as suddenly, it clicked for him: the reason as to which that burly and harrowing monster had reminded him of something was clear. It was unmistakably the _**yeti**_ that had given chase to Stan and him not too long ago - the same emblematic grey fur and haunting crimson pupils clearly illustrated on the panel before them.

For the first time, he felt utter fear strike him.

"Quick! We've gotta get out of here!" he shouted and lurched forward, stashing the notepad and urging Mabel to follow him. Without question, she quickly tailed behind him and both sprinted for their very lives towards the opposite end of the hall where they found another opening to a tunnel - to their relief, without a gate impeding it.

Mabel fully understood the danger they were in, yet still wasn't fully convinced in its prominence. What she was sure about, however, was the terror she saw on Matt's face when he realised what had still festered in the cave. That was all the proof she needed to follow him.

"Wha-what's-" Mabel attempted to say amid gulps of air. "After us?!"

"Something- you- don't wanna meet! Come on!"

Their frantic breathing became evident as they finally entered the tunnels once more, trying to conserve their energy for if the yeti felt their presence. The shadows seemingly closed around them and, in an attempt to counter the void, Matthew once more turned on his portable light source the way he had learnt from Mabel. Glimmering in the darkness, he led both of them with the help of the directions he had memorised. But then came a moment when he was not certain where to turn to.

"Left- left!" Mabel repeated, catching onto his indecision.

Without hesitance, he continued running through the left, having more faith in her memory than his own. Though he wasted no effort focusing on what lay ahead of them, at times, Matthew did have to divert his attention to his rear. He took the risk of possibly tripping or falling but he had to affirm that Mabel was directly behind him all the time. Whatever happened, he _would not_ let her be harmed, he told himself. Seldom did he have to shine the watch in her direction in order to guide her back to him, and even then, it was mostly an unnecessary precaution.

Soon, they saw the scenery undergo a progressive change: the walls' monotonous grey being overtaken by an ethereal green and the ground's rocky texture morphing into a colourful palette of swards. But as daylight began breaking through the crevices of the thinning and unstable ceiling, both were still terribly exhausted despite their best efforts - the sounds of desperate footsteps splashing over small, clay-drenched puddles of water only affirmed that while resounding in the depths. It was then when the familiar rumbling truly resurfaced, the monster having sensed their distress. Immediately after, the ground began to shake and they heard the roar of a hate-filled beast pierce their ears. Barely passing by it through gritting teeth, they hastened their pace even further.

But another did so as well.

Matt hardly even had time to react when he saw the yeti, having seemingly appeared out of thin air, chasing behind them, only its silhouette proving to be more haunting than ever before. It had clearly grown a disdain for Matthew and was gunning for him, but its reflective, fiery eyes made it clear that it would pass through any obstacle to reach him.

That sight - that _realisation_ \- only helped in hastening both of the preteens' speed. Mabel dared not look back, but with a horror she had never experienced before, bolted with all the adrenaline left to carry her body. She knew what was behind her, and prayed that she would avoid its dreadful clutches. With each passing step the yeti took, the area around them shook slightly more and even caused the two to sometimes trip up.

Nevertheless, they pushed through and continued hustling with the same fervor. It was as if their hearts raced against the whims of the universe itself.

The pungent aroma of evergreens permeated the air as they passed through another section of the tunnel. Although the scent served to mostly exasperate their senses, it also kindled the small flame of hope in their hearts that they were near the end; near freedom. Sunlight now fully enveloped their view as well, and with a quick motion, Matthew turned off his watch, not needing its aureole anymore. With one burden freed from his shoulders, he gave into his morbid curiosity and was able to catch a glimpse of the behemoth - now in its full, grotesque image - galloping like a gazelle on all fours, nearly matching their own speed. Its own exhaustion also became prominent as the rippling roars became even more depraved and marred. But nevertheless, it kept up with them and was always inches away from Mabel. Turning once more to check on her, for a split second, Matt saw one of its clawed grey arms rising high above in the air. He knew exactly what that meant.

"DUCK!"

And just in the nick of time, Mabel did as instructed, having barely heard the command, somehow narrowly avoiding the deadly swipe. Instantaneously, he grabbed her by the forearm and yanked her in a bipedal posture once more, the two of them taking off. Finally, after what felt like an eternity for Matthew, his eyes met an opening to the outside - a literal light at the end of their dark, dark tunnel.

"The-there-" he barely breathed out. The shaking had escalated to an entire earthquake like before and both knew another rockslide would follow it. They cursed themselves after seeing that premonition come true, already taking note of the pebbles that rained from above. Nevertheless, that only served to encourage the immensely weary preteens as in spite of any incapacitating aches or crippling pain, they still somehow hastened their tempo _even_ further.

For a brief moment, it felt as if time had stopped.

Rock rained at the front, but they sped through any and all oncoming obstacles. Danger was still present, yet monster behind them seemed so far away.

So. Far. Away.

Suddenly, realising that its prey was close to escaping its clutches, the yeti let out a deafening cry of anguish as a last resort. It was grittier and worse than any sound they had heard that day or _any_ day for that matter; it literally made their ears feel as if they were on fire. All the while more and more debris impacted the passageway, sealing most of their opportunities for escape. It took all of Mabel's willpower and resolve to resist completely collapsing on the ground and to continue the final stretch.

Matthew, on the other hand, nearly succumbed to its influence, barely managing to hold himself at the very front of the exit.

And Mabel immediately saw that.

With a swift jump, she shoved herself and a dazed Matt into the direction of the exit. Just as the creature reached its limits, both of them - having barely made it out before the ceiling itself were to fall on them - hit the ground with a furious thud, one over the other. A recuperated Matthew bobbed his head to the commotion, expecting the worst. Much to his great relief, the collapsed ceiling - along with all of the other rubble - did not allow the yeti to reach them despite its rage-driven attempts to break free.

And, in the last moment, with one final, searing image - that of the heart-wrenching sight of the great beast - being burnt in Matt's retinas, the opening crumbled under the anger of its own master, trapping it there forever. By some miracle, the landslide did not impact either of them and actually suffused once they had escaped from the cave, along with the shaking and ferocious clanging of stone. Matthew and Mabel took no time to dwell on those facts however and were simply thankful for the favourable outcome, taking in the sweet lustre of the afternoon sun and panting feverishly on the ground all the while.

They had made it. Finally.

"Hey… Matt?"

"Hm?"

"You really need to take a shower when we get back."

They exchanged a weak but genuine chuckle at that.

And for a while, they simply relaxed.

Out of the two, Matthew was the first to rise and attempt to piece together where exactly they had stumbled, not wishing to linger near the collapsed den for long. But Mabel did not follow immediately follow through. And her abstinence was not the result of exhaustion overtaking her, but because of a latching revelation that puzzled her thoughts.

Eyes set on the sky, she recalled every time something had gone awry that day: from the first accident at the shack to their eventful and sudden escape. For the first time, she realised that she couldn't solely blame herself **or** Matthew for any of the conundrums they fought through as neither challenge spawned without the other's interference. Yet still, in the end, Matt was the one who saved both of them from allowing - as the message they had read entailed - the cave to become their tomb. And all she offered in return did not even surmount to a single acknowledgement. The guilt weighed her down as she knew this was not the first time she had acted under the guise of such conceit and misplaced confidence; another victim, dear to her, coming to mind as well.

She willed to change that.

Overwhelmed, she too got up from the comfortable blanket of grass and trailed behind Matthew, who was eyeing the mountain of malformed stone before them.

"Ha! Take that, ape-face!" Matt taunted, finally feeling the ecstasy of freedom surge through him. He noticed Mabel and turned to face her. "Oh, hey. Man, that was-"

Suddenly, Mabel leapt in and nearly toppled him down on the ground. It took him a moment to realise that she had actually begun to _hug_ him.

"Woah…" he said, slightly blushing at that. "Wh-what's that for?"

"That's for how AMAZING you were back there!"

Matthew felt a multitude of emotions overcome him while she held him and uttered those words: surprise, disbelief, confusion but also a speck of happiness and satisfaction. Though exasperation and tiredness crowned over the rest, he paid no mind to them, finally feeling as though he was forgiven for his past actions.

It was truly an incredible feeling.

But then he remembered what Stan had told him when they had narrowly escaped the clutches of the same monster and when he first knew that Gravity Falls would be different from any other place he had been to previously:

 _You saved my life too. And don't forget that. Ever. Believe me when I say that already makes ya a better person than me._

If Matthew were to be frank, he never understood why he had directed that spark of encouragement at him. Until now. Now, when it was time for him to relay the same kindness Stan had offered him to another.

"H-hey, don't forget about yourself, too," he reminded. "Don't… don't let me take all of the credit."

She let go of him. "Well, nah… I didn't do much…"

"C'mon, Mabel, don't lie to yourself," he said, holding her by one shoulder. "What do you think would've happened if you hadn't found me? Don't forget the watch, or the map, or the notepad too."

"W-well," she stammered. "You probably wouldn't have needed them..."

He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. "Like I wouldn't have needed someone to shove me to safety right at the end?"

Mabel paused. "Okay, fine. Guess you have a point…" she admitted. "I… I just wanted to say thanks for saving me back there…"

"No problem," he said, laughing it off. "And, uh… thanks for the push there too. Really."

Mabel returned a smile, clearly having not expected such a response. Maybe she truly did lie to herself unknowingly once more. But with people that supported her every step of the way no matter what, she had a feeling that hunch alluded more to truth, and she came to a comforting realisation that finally eased all of her struggles:

Maybe it wasn't so bad to be so terribly wrong.

"So anyway, _how_ are we going to explain… this to Stan?" He pointed to the condition of their clothes.

"Eh, blame it on nature."

He nodded, a smirk forming on his face out of imagining how that explanation would work out. "Good idea but I don't think he's lost it yet."

"Hmm. Maybe we should go and get the stuff Grunkle Stan wanted so that he brushes us off?"

"Yeah, that'll work! And I think I've had my fill of the shack and Mother Nature combined, anyway."

"Agreed. And speaking of which, look! Signs for the shack!" she pointed.

He darted his eyes towards one bolted to a tree - a vivid example of their guardian's methods of exaggerated advertising, complete with flowery messages and a myriad of arrows all pointing to the direction of the Mystery Shack. "Never knew Stan went this far to put up signs."

"Well, it's Stan after all: yeti or no yeti, I don't think he cares! Plus, the faster we get to the shop, the more time we'll have to stare blankly at a wall rethinking what we just went through!"

"Mhm. C'mon, let's get going then. Together."

And then a seemingly ludicrous idea dawned on Mabel.

"Would you say… go as, I dunno, friends…?" asked Mabel, a nervous but endearing smile spread across her face. She extended her palm.

Despite his firsthand shock, Matthew could not help but feel the wave of catharsis flush over him as he registered her question. That day, something even weirder than their traversing of the cave, mutual encounter with the yeti or anything for that matter had happened to him. Facing the road ahead and taking her hand, he knew exactly what it was:

"As friends."


End file.
